IGHTING 

YNG 


FIGHTING    BYNG 


°*IV-   OP  CALIF.   LIBBAHY,   LOS 


Howard  carried  her  in  his  arms,  talking  to  her  as  he 
would  to  a  child. 


FIGHTING  BYNG 

A  NOVEL   OF  MYSTERY 
INTRIGUE  AND  ADVENTURE 


BY 

A.    STONE 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY    L.    PERN    BIRD 


NEW  YORK 
BRITTON  PUBLISHING  CO. 


Copyright,  IP  IP.  by 
BiiirroN  PUBLISHING  COMI-ANT 

Made  in  U.  S.  A. 
All  rights  reserved 


To  my  daughter, 
MARGUERITE-MAUD 


2132852 


FIGHTING    BYNG 

CHAPTER  I 

AT  first  sight  Howard  Byng  impressed  me  as 
being  a  cross  between  a  Wild  Man  of  Borneo  and 
a  pirate. 

He  came  bounding  through  the  otherwise  silent 
turpentine  forest  dragged  along  by  a  little  gray 
mule,  hitched  to  a  sledlike  affair,  shouting  Georgia 
Cracker  profanity  easily  heard  a  mile  away.  Hat- 
less,  long-haired,  and  virgin  fuzz-covered  face; 
hickory  shirt,  flapping  patched  pants  belted  with 
hempen  rope  threatening  to  drop  at  each  kangaroo 
leap  of  his  ample  bare  feet,  describes  the  picture. 
The  sound  was  not  unlike  a  hurricane,  the  careen- 
ing mule  charging  toward  our  camp  with  his  head 
down,  the  sled  drawn  by  chain  traces  often  sailing 
higher  than  his  humped  and  angry  back. 

In  Georgia  nothing  equals  a  scared  runaway 

7 


8  FIGHTING  LYNG 

mule  as  an  excitement-producer.  So  at  least  it 
impressed  my  surveying  gang  just  about  to  break- 
fast under  a  big  mess  tent  pitched  across  a  faded 
cart  track  along  the  bank  of  a  winding  creek. 
Needless  to  say  we  were  all  amazed  at  the  sul- 
phurous anathemas  heaped  upon  the  offending 
beast.  I  must  confess  that  some  of  my  men, 
highly  accomplished  in  the  use  of  verbal  explo- 
sives, listened  with  envy. 

From  amused  interest,  however,  we  soon 
changed  to  grave  concern.  The  mule  seemed  to 
think  that  he  had  the  right  of  way  over  the  old 
cart  track  and  headed  directly  for  our  tent.  In 
three  seconds  the  damage  was  done.  He  plunged 
directly  into  the  outfit,  knocked  down  the  center 
pole  and  landed  on  his  back.  There  he  lay  with 
feet  in  the  air,  kicking  and  struggling  until  the 
wreck  of  our  breakfast,  cooking  outfit,  beds  and 
clothing  of  eight  men,  was  complete. 

Of  course,  when  Howard  Byng  came  flying  into 
us  the  sentiment  was  all  against  him  and  his  gray 
mule,  notwithstanding  the  new  brand  of  profanity 


FIGHTING  BYNG  9 

he  introduced,  for  my  men  were  recruited  in  the 
North.  We  had  just  completed  a  survey  of  the 
Dismal  Swamp  and  had  arrived  in  Georgia  full  of 
quinine,  malaria  and  peevishness.  But  it  was  our 
job  to  give  the  Forestry  Division  accurate  knowl- 
edge of  the  longleaf  pine  left  in  Georgia. 

Things  looked  squally  as  I  scrambled  away  from 
the  kicking  mule  and  I  eyed  his  master  somewhat 
ruefully.  It  was  then  that  I  noticed  a  sign  of 
mental  bigness  in  the  youngster.  I  also  noted  that 
he  was  much  larger  physically,  and  more  husky 
than  I  had  first  thought  him  to  be.  Even  after  his 
long  run  he  wasn't  winded,  his  ample  chest  ac- 
counting for  that.  He  wasn't  mad,  either,  but 
very  much  excited.  Experience  had  taught  me 
that  a  man  with  his  kind  of  nose  seldom  gets 
mad — just  fierce.  With  a  litheness  and  strength 
surprising  he  threw  up  the  edge  of  the  tent,  dived 
into  the  wreck  and  literally  dragged  "  Jeff  Davis" 
out,  continuing  meanwhile  his  complimentary  re- 
marks about  the  perverseness  of  all  mules  and 
"Jeff"  in  particular. 


10  FIGHTING  BYNG 

On  four  feet  again  the  maddened  mule,  still 
feeling  himself  to  be  the  injured  party,  kicked 
viciously  with  both  hind  feet  at  his  owner,  then 
started  straight  across  our  wrecked  home  at 
break-neck  speed  down  the  faded  cart  track. 

' '  Did  you-all  ever  see  such  a  damn  mule  f ' '  This 
question  was  addressed  particularly  to  me.  Even 
in  the  excitement  the  youngster  shrewdly  dis- 
cerned that  I  was  in  charge.  "Let  him  go;  he'll 
stop.  A  mule  won't  go  far  after  you  doan  want 
him,"  he  added.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  no- 
ticed how  unpopular  he  was  with  my  husky,  ma- 
larious eight. 

The  fellow  interested  me  not  a  little.  I  smiled 
encouragingly,  but  my  main  thought  was  to  get  the 
tent  in  place  and  a  new  breakfast  cooked  so  we 
could  get  to  work. 

"I  ain't  'sponsible  for  that  there  mule,  suh,  but 
I  reckon  I'm  goin'  to  help  you-all  put  the  tent 
back, ' '  he  said  to  me  in  kindly  tone  of  voice.  But 
getting  the  side  remarks  of  the  disgusted  men, 
and  especially  our  big  "axe-man,"  and  the  cook, 


FIGHTING  EYNG  11 

who  saw  more  than  double  work  ahead,  Byng's 
eyes  opened  wide. 

"You  kaint  help  a  mule  running  away.  It's 
bawn  in  'em.  Anyhow,  it  won't  take  long  to  git 
the  tent  up  again. ' '  He  eyed  me  expectantly  and 
my  sympathy  went  out  to  him.  "I'll  do  it  my- 
self," he  added  affably. 

"Of  course  it  isn't  your  fault,"  I  replied.  "A 
mule  is  a  mule;  that  is  why  he  is  called  by  that 
name." 

For  a  moment  I  thought  the  matter  would  get 
by  amicably,  but  another  flood  of  profanity  from 
big  Jake  and  aimed  directly  at  the  Georgia 
Cracker  brought  the  tension  to  the  breaking  point. 

In  the  code  of  the  turpentine  woods  it  is  per- 
fectly proper  to  swear  at  a  mule  no  matter  who 
owns  it,  and  a  mule  expects  to  be  "cussed."  But 
to  include  the  owner,  or  driver,  is  an  insult  that 
calls  for  trouble. 

Instantly  the  young  stranger  stopped  his  work 
and  stepped  back  a  few  paces.  There  he  listened 
carefully  to  all  that  was  said,  and  as  long  as  he 


12  FIGHTING  BYNG 

could  stand  it,  his  steel  gray  eyes  taking  on  a  fire 
that  I  well  understood.  But  my  men  from  the 
North  did  not  grasp  the  situation.  In  a  voice  not 
so  very  loud,  but  plain  enough  to  be  heard  by  all, 
the  Cracker,  in  a  wonderful  Southern  drawl,  began 
to  say  something. 

"I  reckon  I  kain't  fight  you-all  all  at  once,  but 
I'll  take  you-all  one  at  a  time  and  whup  the  whole 
bunch  of  yer. ' '  He  then  glanced  over  toward  me 
as  though  expecting  a  square  deal.  I  gave  him  a 
kindly  twinkle  of  encouragement,  but  his  chal- 
lenge had  the  effect  of  quieting  matters  for  a  brief 
period.  Then  big  Jake,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a 
particularly  bad  humor,  began  to  snort  and  swear 
again. 

Jake  had  long  since  elected  himself  boss  bruiser 
of  the  party,  and  without  contest.  We  had  been 
in  the  Dismal  Swamp  so  long  and  eaten  so  much 
quinine  that  if  he  had  said  he  was  the  devil  him- 
self, or  any  other  bandit,  all  hands  would  have  as- 
sented. Now  they  looked  to  Jake  to  prove  his 
claims  as  a  bad  man. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  13 

Jake,  thoroughly  confident,  quit  work  and  swag- 
gered over  toward  the  Cracker.  He  still  gave  vent 
to  most  insulting  tirades.  I  felt  somehow  that 
Jake  was  recklessly  going  against  an  unknown 
quantity,  but  I  said  nothing.  If  he  was  well  licked 
once  it  might  make  him  a  better  camp  fellow. 

Jake  rushed  at  Byng  bellowing  like  the  king 
bull  of  a  herd,  but  the  Cracker  boy  stood  his 
ground  with  chin  slightly  elevated,  his  jaws  set 
until  a  knob  showed  on  the  lower  angle. 

"  Yer  crazy  mule  breaks  up  our  camp  and  spoils 
our  breakfast  and  now  yer  want  to  fight — is  dat 
it!"  Jake  sneered,  his  words  in  purest  "hobo." 

The  Cracker  boy  glanced  at  me  and  seemingly 
understood  how  I  felt.  Nevertheless,  he  watched 
Jake  with  eyes  strangely  fierce. 

"Why  don't  you  say  something,  yer  damn 
Cracker.  They  ain  't  no  fight  in  ye, ' '  sneered  Jake 
insultingly.  Then  reaching  out  he  tore  open 
Byng's  hickory  shirt,  and  spat  tobacco  juice  upon 
his  bare  skin. 

The  youngster  hadn't  raised  his  hand  as  yet; 


14  FIGHTING  BYNG 

he  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  something.    His  re- 
straint seemed  ominous  to  me. 

Jake  emboldened,  grabbed  him  by  the  shoulder, 
partly  turned  and  gave  him  a  hunch  with  his  knee 
which  had  the  effect  of  unleashing  the  boy's  tre- 
mendous energy.  As  quick  as  a  flash  his  great 
brown  fist  flew  out,  landing  on  Jake 's  jaw.  It  was 
a  wallop  with  an  echo  that  rebounded  from  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  creek,  and  Jake  hit  the 
ground  with  a  thud. 

"Now  git  up  and  I'll  do  it  agin,"  the  Cracker 
boy  said  confidently. 

Jake  gained  his  feet  unsteadily,  and  started  for- 
ward like  a  maddened  bull.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  would  surely  carry  everything  before  him.  But 
the  youngster  waited  calmly.  Perhaps  six  sec- 
onds elapsed  before  his  long  reach  shot  out  again. 
This  put  the  axeman  on  his  hands  and  knees,  with 
face  as  white  as  chalk.  As  he  partly  raised,  Byng 
grabbed  him  by  the  waist,  and,  as  if  lifting  a  dead 
dog,  tossed  him  into  the  creek. 

For  the  first  time  in  months  my  fever-and-ague 


FIGHTING  BYNG  15 

crew  laughed  outright.  To  see  Jake  get  his 
quietus  from  so  unexpected  a  quarter  was  a  tonic 
in  itself.  The  big  bully  had  been  put  out  by  a 
kid,  so  to  speak,  and  every  one  of  his  mates 
laughed  when  the  victim  waded  out  of  the  creek 
spitting  out  teeth. 

"Now  is  they  any  more  of  you-all  ut  wants  to 
fight?"  challenged  the  victor,  addressing  himself 
to  all  present,  but  they  only  grinned  and  looked  at 
Jake  sprawling  on  the  grass.  I  walked  over  to 
the  Cracker  boy. 

"What  is  your  name?"  I  asked,  reassuringly. 

"My  name,  suh,  is  Howard  Byng." 

"That's  a  good  name.  You  ought  to  be  called 
'Fighting'  Byng.  Better  go  and  find  that  mule 
or  you  may  lose  him.  We  will  soon  be  straight- 
ened out  here,"  I  added,  smiling,  also  taking 
closer  inventory  of  the  boy.  Without  further 
words  he  started  down  the  old  road  to  recover  Jeff 
Davis  and  put  him  back  fo  work. 

Jake,  having  been  thoroughly  disabled,  quit  his 
job  and  left  me  short-handed.  The  next  morning 


16  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  saw  Howard  Byng  in  the  adjoining  wood,  with 
the  gray  mule  drawing  the  sled.  There  was  a 
barrel  on  it.  He  had  been  gathering  turpentine 
sap,  and  sledding  it  to  a  "  still. ' '  He  was  glad  to 
see  me,  and  at  once  offered  me  a  chew  of  dog- 
leg natural-leaf  tobacco. 

"How  do  you  like  this  kind  of  work?"  I  asked, 
casually. 

"Waal — only  tolerable,  suh,"  he  drawled,  tak- 
ing a  liberal  chew  of  the  leaf.  "But  I ?m  doggoned 
tired  of  dis  heah  country." 

"This  country  is  all  right — isn't  it?" 
"Yes,  suh,"  he  replied  slowly,  leaning  back 
against  the  sap  barrel,  "I  reckon  de  country's  all 
right,  but  here  lately  it  seems  just  lak  God  made  it 
de  las'  thing  he  done  and  used  up  what  poor 
stuff  he  had  left." 

"I  thought  Georgia  was  a  pretty  good  state,"  I 
suggested. 

"Oh,  yes,  suh,  Georgia  is  a  good  enough  state, 
an*  I  reckon  Atlanter,  Augusta,  an'  Savannah  are 
big  cities  with  mighty  fine,  rich  people,  but  dis 


FIGHTING  BYNG  17 

heah  pa't  ain't  no  good  'tall — do  you-all  know 
just  what  dis  yellah  land  an'  swamp  heah  is  good 
fur!"  he  asked  solemnly,  ruefully  contemplating 
his  great  toe  wrapped  in  a  cotton  rag. 

"What  do  you  think  it  is  best  for?"  I  asked, 
standing  a  few  paces  away,  amused. 

"Well,  suh,  I'll  tell  yer  what  it's  good  for,  an' 
the  only  thing  it  is  good  for,  and  that  is  to  hold 
the  earth  together,  that's  all,"  he  said  with  final- 
ity. I  laughed  and  asked  how  he  would  like  to 
leave,  and  go  to  work  in  the  surveying  party. 

"I'd  lak  it  mighty  well,  but  I  reckon  you-all 
ain't  got  no  place  for  me,"  he  replied,  rising  eag- 
erly and  coming  up  to  where  I  stood. 

"Yes — maybe  I  can  arrange  it.  That  fellow  you 
smashed  yesterday  has  got  to  leave.  The  doctor 
says  his  jaw  is  fractured  and  he  must  eat  soft 
food.  He  is  not  fit  to  work — he  wants  to  go." 
Byng's  eyes  grew  large. 

"Well,  auh,  I'm  pow'ful  sorry.  I'm  glad  I  hit 
him  only  a  little  tap,  or  it  might 'a  killed  him. 
I  held  back  all  I  could — jest  a  little  tap.  An' 


18  FIGHTING  BYNG 

now  you  say  I  can  have  his  job?"  he  asked,  com- 
ing closer,  his  eyes  glittering. 

"Yes,  if  you  want  it." 

"  An'  you  say  that  fellah  has  his  jaw  broke,  and 
the  saw-bones  says  he  mus '  live  on  spoon  vittles  ? ' ' 
he  asked,  moving  away,  his  head  hanging. 

"Yes,  that's  about  it — but  you  were  not " 

"So  help  me  Gawd,  Mistah "  He  paused 

and  then  continued,  "Waal,  you-all  know  I  didn't 
lif '  my  han'  till  he  sput  on  me,  and — I  am  not  to 
blame  for  de  mule.  I'm  downright  sorry  I  put 
him  on  spoon  vittles,  and  I  needn't  t've  doused 
him  in  the  crick. ' '  Byng  evidently  did  not  realize 
how  strong  he  was. 

"But  what  I  want  to  know  is  how  soon  you  can 
come  to  work?"  said  I,  bringing  him  back  to  my 
offer.  I  needed  him,  and  wasn't  half  sorry  that 
he  possessed  a  terrific  punch. 

"If  you  mean,  Mistah  'er "  He  hesitated  a 

moment.  "Did  you  say  yer  name  was  Wood?  If 
you  mean  it,  I  can  go  to  work  jus'  as  soon  as  I 


FIGHTING  BYNG  19 

talk  dis  heah  mule  ovah  to  the  still  an'  tell  de 
boss." 

That  was  how  young  Byng  came  to  >go  with  me, 
and  promptly  the  boys  nick-named  him  "Fighting 
Byng." 


CHAPTER  H 

HOWARD  BYNG  stayed  with  me  all  that  season — 
about  eight  months,  and  was  a  constant  surprise. 
I  helped  him  a  little  and  taught  him  to  read  a 
newspaper  and  got  rid  of  some  of  his  negro  dia- 
lect. He  was  faithful  and  true — a  willing  slave 
if  such  a  term  could  be  applied  to  a  free-born  man. 

Wonderful  in  woodcraft,  he  knew  just  where  to 
pitch  camp  to  get  water  and  avoid  it.  One  bee 
meant  a  bee 's  nest  nearby,  and  we  had  wild  honey 
all  the  time.  He  knew  just  where  to  go  and  pull 
a  'possum  out  of  a  tree,  we  had  wild  turkey,  and 
occasionally  a  young  bear  or  deer.  And  work — 
he  was  worth  any  two  men  I  ever  had.  He  de- 
veloped like  a  starving  crop  fertilized  and  wa- 
tered. In  the  clean-cut,  powerful,  willing,  cheer- 
ful "axe-man"  no  one  could  have  recognized  the 
20 


FIGHTING  BYNG  21 

Georgia  Cracker  I  found  hauling  turpentine  sap 
with  a  mule  eight  months  before.  Well  barbered 
and  tailored  he  would  have  presented  a  handsome 
appearance.  I  was  sorry  enough  when  the  time 
came  to  part  with  him. 

At  that  time  we  were  on  the  bank  of  the  Alta- 
mara  river.  All  of  the  other  men  had  been  paid 
but  I  kept  Howard  to  pack  up.  The  tent  and 
outfit  were  to  be  shipped  to  Savannah.  One  day 
I  queried: 

"Howard,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your 
money?"  He  had  asked  me  to  keep  his  monthly 
vouchers  and  give  him  spending  money  as  needed. 

"How  much  money  have  I  got  coming,  Mistah 
Wood?"  he  asked,  coming  near  where  I  sat  mak- 
ing out  my  final  reports,  using  the  mess  table  in 
the  center  of  the  big  tent  for  a  desk. 

"You  have  more  than  a  thousand  dollars,"  I 
replied  without  looking  up. 

"A  thousand  dollars — sure  enough  money! "  he 
exclaimed  with  delight,  yet  astonished  and  a  little 
bit  doubtful. 


22  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Yes — you  can  go  to  any  bank  and  get  it  in 
gold,  if  you  desire. ' ' 

"Why — a  thousand  dollars — I  never  expected 
to  have  that  much  money  in  my  whole  life — ah — 
ah  reckon  I'll  let  you  keep  it  fer  me,  Mistah 
Wood.  I  got  no  use  for  money  now. ' ' 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  keep  it  for  you,  Howard," 
I  replied.  "I  am  going  back  to  Washington,  and 
will  enter  another  branch  of  the  service. ' ' 

"You  can't  keep  it  for  me,  Mistah  Wood?" 

"No — that  wouldn't  do,  you  must  learn  to  take 
care  of  it  yourself. ' ' 

"What  can  I  do  with  ut?"  he  finally  asked, 
troubled  and  thoughtful,  as  I  mentioned  going 
away. 

He  amused  me  with  his  simplicity.  Half  in  jest 
I  said,  "Buy  up  some  of  this  stump  land — it  will 
make  you  rich  some  day." 

"If  I  had  some  of  this  good-for-nothing  land 
what  would  I  do  with  ut  f "  he  asked,  feigning  as- 
tonishment and  going  over  to  the  edge  of  the  tent 
which  had  been  opened  all  around.  Looking  out 


23 

as  far  as  he  could  see  was  a  scraggly  growth  of 
pine  among  stumps  as  thick,  black  and  forbidding 
as  midnight  in  a  swamp  of  croaking  frogs. 

"This  land's  no  better  than  the  turpentine  coun- 
try— what  would  such  cussed  stuff  be  worth  if  I 
had  ut?"  he  asked  again.  "Why,  they  ain't  a 
house  for  miles — all  of  it  is  God-fo'saken,"  he 
insisted  before  I  could  reply. 

"Howard,  you  must  use  your  imagination — 
those  stumps  are  full  of  turpentine  and  rosin,  and 
after  you  get  them  out  you  have  river-bottom  land 
that  will  raise  cotton  as  high  as  your  shoulders 
for  a  hundred  years — and  right  out  there  is  deep 
tide-water,  to  take  it  to  any  part  of  the  world." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  how  you  goin'  to  get  the 
stumps  out?"  he  asked  quickly,  still  looking  out. 

"Blow  them  out  with  dynamite — pull  them  out, 
that's  easy." 

"Yes — but  how  am  I  going  to  get  the  turpentine 
and  rosin  outen  the  stumps  after  I  blow  'em  up?" 
he  came  back  at  me. 

"Boil  it  out,  and  then  sell  the  wood  or  make 


24  FIGHTING  BYNG 

paper  out  of  it.  You  ought  to  be  able  to  work 
that  out,"  I  replied,  smiling. 

Howard  Byng  looked  out  a  little  longer  and 
without  replying  resumed  packing  the  dishes  and 
kitchen  outfit  in  a  big  chest,  while  I  went  on  with 
my  writing.  Finally  he  came  opposite  the  table 
and  surprised  me  by  saying : 

"Do  you  heah  them  little  frogs  yapin' — and 
do  you  heah  them  big  bullfrogs  bawlin',  and  do 
you  see  them  buzzards  flyin',  and  doan  you  know 
them  stumps  is  in  water  where  it's  full  of  rattla'st 
This  ain't  no  good  country  fur  a  white  man  where 
dey  is  bullfrogs  and  little  frogs,  vermin  of  all 
sorts  and  buzzards,  and  where  you  got  to  eat 
quinine  three  times  a  day." 

"Think  it  over,  Howard,  it  may  be  better  than 
you  imagine." 

We  finally  got  a  boat  as  far  as  Brunswick. 
Howard  insisted  on  going  with  me  to  Savannah 
where  I  would  turn  in  my  camp  outfit  He  had 
never  been  out  of  the  woods  before.  His  sur- 
prise and  delight  at  being  in  a  city  for  the  first 


FIGHTING  BVNG  25 

time  wag  refreshing.  This  nineteen-year-old  tur- 
pentine woods  boy  had  never  been  farther  than  a 
country  store,  never  had  seen  a  locomotive,  and 
to  him  cities  had  been  mere  dreams. 

To  him  the  one,  and  only,  three-story  block  in 
the  place  was  a  skyscraper.  He  saw  big  steamers 
and  sailing  ships  for  the  first  time,  and  acres  of 
long  wharfs  loaded  with  naval  stores,  sawed  tim- 
ber and  cotton  he  could  scarcely  believe  as  real 
until  he  actually  touched  them  with  his  hands. 

With  my  help  he  bought  a  good  suit  of  clothes, 
shoes  and  hat,  the  first  he  ever  owned.  The  bar- 
ber did  the  rest  and  his  delight  knew  no  bounds. 
His  raven  hair  and  skin  were  perfect,  and  he  would 
have  been  taken  for  a  college  athlete  until  he 
talked,  his  speech  being  a  distinct  shock.  During 
these  two  or  three  days  he  seemed  transported 
and  almost  forgot  I  was  about  to  leave  him. 

When  the  time  came  his  sorrow  was  distress- 
ing. He  took  no  pains  to  disguise  it,  and  lapsed 
into  the  Cracker  boy,  timid,  and  out  of  his  ele- 
ment. He  breathed  hard  and  struggled. 


26  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Mistah  Wood,  you  leavin'  makes  me  want  to 
run  back  to  the  pine  woods,  and  I  guess  I  will," 
he  said,  standing  on  the  wharf  looking  up  at  my 
steamer. 

"Howard,  every  man  must  work  out  his  own 
problems,"  said  I.  "For  me  to  attempt  to  ad- 
vise would  be  to  rob  you  of  your  own  inspiration. 
You  will  know  what  you  want  to  do  before  long, 
but  don't  take  too  big  a  jump  at  once.  I  believe 
there  is  good  metal  in  you  which  will  soon  show 
itself,  if  you  don't  force  it."  I  was  sorry  for  the 
boy  and  thought  for  the  moment  I  had  made  a 
mistake  in  bringing  him  out  of  the  woods.  I 
didn't  believe  anything  could  be  accidental;  his 
meeting  me  was  not,  I  felt  certain. 

"Ain't  there  somethin'  I  can  do  to  be  with  you! 
You  know  I'm  willin'  to  do  anything,"  he  asked 
in  a  distinctly  broken  voice. 

"No,  Howard — for  two  reasons.  I  am  going 
into  another  department  and  am  uncertain  where' 
they  will  send  me,  and  such  a  move,  were  it  pos- 
sible, might  be  harmful  to  you.  Go  to  work  at 


FIGHTING  BYNG  27 

something  here,  and  read — study  for  five  years, 
then  you  may  be  able  to  go  in  the  big  world,  and 
become  somebody." 

"Do  you  mean  I  must  go  back  to  the  turpen- 
tine country!"  he  asked,  with  moistening  eyes, 
as  though  asking  that  sentence  be  passed  upon 
him. 

"It  doesn't  matter  where  you  go,  Howard,  or 
what  you  do,  honestly,  if  you  will  get  a  lot  of 
books  to  read  and  study  them.  Read  the  lives 
of  Lincoln  and  Horace  Greeley,  who  started  out 
of  the  woods.  Books  and  study  are  the  keys  to 
the  great  outside  world.  If  you  would  be  more 
than  a  laborer  with  your  hands — study,  my  boy," 
I  advised,  putting  my  hand  on  his  broad  shoul- 
ders. 

"I'm  goin'  to  do  it,  suh — I'm  go  in'  to  do  it 
sho',"  he  repeated  as  he  followed  me  to  the  gang- 
plank. 

And  there  he  stood  on  the  end  of  the  wharf 
until  the  ship  was  out  of  sight,  occasionally  wav- 
ing his  arms.  For  a  time  I  was  actually  dis- 


28  FIGHTING  BYNG 

tux-bed  by  the  pathos  of  the  boy's  conduct.  I 
knew  that  in  our  country  there  were  still  thou- 
sands more  like  him  not  yet  reached  by  our  woeful 
educational  system,  especially  in  some  parts  of 
the  South. 

My  work  in  the  Excise  Department  was  new 
to  me  and  kept  me  very  busy  for  the  next  five 
years.  Howard  Byng  had  practically  passed  out 
of  my  mind.  One  day  the  chief  informed  me  that 
there  was  a  lot  of  " moonshine'*  whiskey  coming 
down  the  Altamara  Eiver  in  Southern  Georgia, 
that  the  still  was  in  the  center  of  an  immense  cut- 
over  swamp,  and  anyone  approaching  it  could  be 
seen  from  far  away.  Also  that  revenue  officers 
usually  came  away  hurriedly  with  bullet  holes  in 
their  hats  and  clothing,  and  without  the  Swamp 
Angels  who  had  formed  the  habit  of  not  paying 
the  federal  tax  on  distilled  liquors.  He  wanted 
to  know  if  I  would  undertake  to  bring  them  in, 
saying  that,  as  I  hadn't  many  failures  to  my 
credit  I  could  afford  to  stand  one.  But  what  he 
really  meant  to  convey  was  that  the  case  had 


FIGHTING  BYNG  29 

become  a  stench  to  the  department's  nostrils, 
and  that  I  must  go  well  prepared  to  clean  things 
up. 

I  found  the  county  was  as  big  as  Rhode  Island 
and  without  a  railroad ;  the  county  seat  a  village, 
and  the  sheriff  a  picturesque  character.  He  said 
he  could  give  minute  directions  to  locate  this 
"still,"  but  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  "pussenly" 
he  had  just  been  re-elected  and  wanted  to  serve 
out  his  term,  "sheriffing"  being  the  best  paid  job 
in  the  county,  and  that  his  family  needed  the 
money.  He  was  strongly  of  the  belief  an  at- 
tempt on  his  part  to  capture  the  gang  would  be 
a  direct  bid  for  the  undertaker  and  a  succes- 
sor. 

"But,  now  suh,  don't  misunderstand,"  he  con- 
tinued. "Those  three  or  four  fellows  up  there  in 
the  'cut-over'  ain't  no  friends  of  mine.*' 

The  "still"  was  up  the  river  about  thirty  miles, 
and  then  off  three  miles,  in  a  creek  that  was 
almost  dry,  except  at  high  tide. 

He  helped  me  procure   a  flat-bottomed   row- 


30  FIGHTING  BYNG 

boat,  to  which  I  attached  an  electric  propeller 
which  I  thought  would  send  it  along  quietly — 
oars  are  much  too  noisy — and  I  started  out  at 
night,  expecting  to  get  at  the  mouth  of  the 
creek  at  high  tide,  which  would  be  about  mid- 
night. 

After  going  up  the  river  some  twenty  miles,  I 
saw  a  light  ahead  on  the  left  bank  that  soon  grew 
into  a  row  of  lights, — and  electric  lights,  too.  I 
thought  it  must  be  a  packet  coming  down,  but 
packets  on  that  river  were  small,  primitive  affairs 
and  again,  as  I  drew  closer  I  saw  that  the  lights 
were  not  moving,  but  located  on  the  bank  that 
raised  a  little  at  that  point.  I  thought  it  strange 
the  sheriff  did  not  mention  this  landmark.  As 
I  came  abreast  of  it,  I  could  see  it  was  some  kind 
of  a  factory,  but  decided  to  look  it  over,  "if  I 
come  back,"  which  the  sheriff  had  cast  doubt 
upon. 

For  a  few  miles  above  something  about  the 
contour  of  the  bank  puzzled  me  for  a  time.  I  was 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  memory  and  geography 


FIGHTING  BYNG  31 

are  often  linked  together.  Unerringly  I  could 
think  of  a  hotel  by  name  when  I  reached  a  town, 
not  having  thought  of  it  before  in  years.  Even 
a  telephone  number  I  could  recall  when  the  geog- 
raphy was  right.  Having  discussed  this  mental 
phenomena  with  others  I  found  I  was  not  alone 
in  possession  of  this  freak  of  the  brain. 

After  passing  that  factory  I  reclined  in  the  bow 
of  the  boat,  lulled  by  the  rhythmic,  noiseless  mo- 
tion of  the  little  screw  propeller;  the  left  bank 
suddenly  became  familiar.  Then,  as  though  a 
door  in  my  memory  had  suddenly  opened  I  knew 
it  was  here,  on  this  same  Altamara  Eiver,  that  I 
broke  camp  five  years  before,  and  the  memory  of 
forgotten  Howard  Byng  stood  before  me,  with 
the  vividness  of  yesterday.  I  had  expected  to 
hear  good  things  of  him  some  time.  I  could  recall 
his  broken  voice  asking  me  to  take  him  with  me, 
feel  his  wringing  hand-shake,  bidding  me  good- 
bye; perhaps  I  magnified  the  abandon  in  his  last 
wave  of  the  hand  as  he  stood  on  the  end  of  the 
wharf  watching  me  leave,  disheartened  and  dis- 


82  FIGHTING  BYNG 

consolate  as  a  lost  soul.  Then  like  a  wave  of 
nausea  came  the  thought  that  he  might  be  with 
this  very  gang  I  was  going  after.  I  believed  he 
would  be  a  force  wherever  he  was.  The  time  and 
place  synchronized. 

But  here  was  my  landmark  to  enter  the  creek, 
calling  for  extreme  caution.  I  had  ample  notice 
that  this  gang  was  bold  and  would  shoot  to  kill,  if 
necessary.  I  didn't  mind  the  danger  much,  but  I 
did  fear  failure.  The  creek  was  as  crooked  as  a 
ram's  horn  and  the  " still"  was  at  the  very  end  of 
it,  in  a  dug-out  on  a  little  knoll  in  the  low  land. 

I  felt  I  was  near  the  end  of  it  when  the  fog 
came,  making  the  dark  night  almost  black.  I  had 
to  feel  my  way  in  the  slough  creek  that  had  nar- 
rowed now  to  six  or  eight  feet  through  high 
grass. 

I  knew  when  I  had  reached  the  end,  for  I  drew 
alongside  the  scow-like  boat  described  to  me,  and 
often  seen  on  the  river,  but  there  was  neither 
sound,  light,  nor  sign  of  life.  I  took  my  time  and 
was  careful.  I  sat  very  quietly  in  the  boat  for  a 


FIGHTING  BYNG  33 

few  minutes,  listening  and  going  over  again  my 
plan  of  action,  then  I  felt  about  their  boat  cau- 
tiously. It  was  motor-driven  and  might  carry  a 
ton. 

Stepping  out  on  the  oozy  bank,  I  began  to  crawl 
through  the  wet  and  clammy  fog  in  the  direction 
given  by  the  sheriff,  but  could  see  nothing  and 
was  forced  to  feel  my  way  along.  My  rifle  and 
bag,  slung  over  my  shoulder,  made  progress  slow 
and  I  noticed  the  ground  was  rising  a  little,  further 
identifying  the  locality. 

When  I  came  up  to  a  big  stump  the  oppressive 
graveyard  stillness  was  broken  for  the  first  time 
by  a  sound  like  a  man  breathing.  I  crawled  a 
little  more  and  listened.  Surely  it  came  from 
human  lungs.  There  could  be  no  mistake.  It  was 
the  stuporous  breathing  of  a  drunk. 

I  hitched  forward  again  and  vision  became 
clearer.  The  noise  came  from  inside  the  stump 
evidently  hollow.  Straining  my  vision  I  learned 
that  it  was  about  four  feet  high  and  one  side  of  it 
missing.  Then  I  made  out  the  dim  outlines  of  a 


34  FIGHTING  BYNG 

man  sitting  inside.  I  cautiously  felt  for  his  form 
with  my  hand,  then  quickly  jerked  back  and  away. 

I  had  touched  a  naked  foot,  a  human  foot — but 
the  heavy  breathing  continued.  It  was  their  look- 
out, their  sentinel — of  whom  I  had  been  warned — 
and  he  was  evidently  stupified  by  the  product  from 
the  "still,"  a  moonshiner's  great  weakness. 

I  could  trace  the  long-barreled  squirrel  rifle 
standing  close  beside  him  and  I  waited  cau- 
tiously for  other  signs  of  life.  None  came.  I 
touched  his  foot  again.  No  move.  Ready  to 
throttle  him  on  the  instant,  I  pressed  the  foot 
again  slightly,  and  then  the  other  one.  The 
"swamp  juice"  was  squarely  on  the  throne.  The 
fellow  was  inanimate. 

I  was  able  to  manacle  his  feet  without  awaken- 
ing him,  then  took  away  his  rifle  and  began  to 
manacle  his  hands  and  his  feet.  Soon  they  were 
ironed — and  he  still  slept. 

My  success  emboldened  me.  One  man  was 
harmless  even  if  he  made  an  outcry  but  I  still 
walked  cautiously,  trying  to  locate  the  "still" 


FIGHTING  BYNG  35 

house  in  the  cave.  I  was  confronted  with  a  col- 
lection of  uprooted  stumps,  a  circular  barricade, 
but  in  a  moment  I  caught  the  slightest  flicker  of 
light.  I  was  sure  then,  and  moved  silently  along 
toward  the  layout.  I  knew  there  must  be  an 
entrance,  and  I  now  plainly  detected  the  fumes  of 
charcoal  and  the  mash  tub.  The  next  thing  in 
order  was  to  get  inside. 

Following  the  circle  of  stumps  I  came  to  the 
entrance,  a  ditch  that  led  down  to  the  floor  level  of 
the  place.  Time  was  speeding  and  I  was  afraid 
the  stupified  sentinel  might  awaken  and  give  an 
alarm.  Silently  I  worked  up  to  a  narrow  door 
crudely  made  of  upright  board  planks.  Big  cracks 
enabled  me  to  see  the  interior.  There  were  two 
men.  The  older  was  sitting  asleep  against  the 
wrall,  the  younger  man  moving  about.  I  could  see 
his  outline  plainly  by  the  light  of  a  candle.  His 
figure  seemed  familiar.  He  opened  the  furnace 
door  to  put  more  charcoal  under  the  still — I  could 
could  see  his  face.  Howard  Byng !  His  hair  was 
long  again,  his  face,  smooth  when  I  last  saw  it,  was 


36  FIGHTING  BYNG 

now  covered  with  a  bushy  black  beard.  God  only 
knows  how  I  regretted  the  work  ahead  of  me.  If 
I  had  only  declined  this  job !  The  thought  brought 
a  cold  sweat. 


CHAPTER  HI 

MY  shock  at  seeing  Howard  Byng  in  snch  a 
place  was  distinctly  depressing.  My  soul  cried 
out  for  the  boy  for  whom  I  had  formed  a  strong 
attachment  and  I  leaned  against  the  narrow  ditch 
entrance  for  a  moment,  overcome.  There  are 
pigeon  holes  in  our  memories  for  every  sort  of  in- 
formation, the  pleasant  things  and  the  unpleasant. 
I  had  placed  Howard  Byng  in  a  warm,  honest, 
hopeful  compartment,  and  to  suddenly  learn  that 
I  had  warmed  a  viper  produced  a  conflict  of  emo- 
tions. They  seemed  a  jangle  of  sharp,  ear-split- 
ting sounds,  as  hammers  played  upon  steel  to  pro- 
duce discord.  I  was  overcome  for  the  moment.  I 
felt  Howard  Byng  had  done  me  a  personal  wrong 
as  I  vividly  recalled  again  his  honest,  fearless, 

37 


38  FIGHTING  BYNG 

cordial  gaze,  when  he  bade  me  good-bye.  I  had 
looked  into  his  eyes  and  felt  sure  he  was  clean;  I 
knew  he  had  a  big,  tender  heart.  Now  he  had  gone 
back,  and  worse — he  had  become  a  notorious  out- 
law and  I — I  was  to  take  him,  dead  or  alive. 

This  went  through  my  mind  in  seconds.  How 
far  was  I  to  blame  for  not  wanting  to  take  that 
boy  with  me  there  and  then?  I  could  let  him 
escape,  but  the  law — it  must  be  fulfilled.  I  could 
not  neglect  my  duty  to  the  state.  I  don't  mind 
confessing  personal  ambition,  pride  and  love  of 
adventure;  and  for  audacity  and  boldness,  this 
Federal  violation  had  no  equal.  I  wanted  this  to 
be  my  last  and  best  work  for  the  Excise  Depart- 
ment before  I  was  transferred  to  the  Counterfeit 
Division. 

It  doesn't  affect  Howard  Byng's  history  much 
how  I  let  off  a  stick  of  dynamite  on  one  side  of 
the  establishment,  and  by  a  flare  of  light  took  both 
men  chained  to  their  drunken  sentinel  in  their 
own  boat  with  the  copper  "still"  and  a  dozen  or 
more  jugs  of  moonshine  for  evidence.  Another 


FIGHTING  BTNG  39 

heavy  charge  of  explosive  left  a  deep  hole  where 
the  " still"  house  stood. 

My  prisoners  were  sullen  and  uttered  no  sound. 
They  knew  their  prison  days  were  at  hand.  I  put 
them  in  their  own  boat,  towing  mine,  and  hurried 
quickly  down  the  creek  to  the  river.  Though  man- 
acled hand  and  foot  and  chained  to  a  elect,  I  felt 
none  too  safe. 

I  knew  Howard  Byng  was  powerful,  likely  cun- 
ning and  treacherous  now,  and  the  strain  was  con- 
siderable. Three  o  'clock  in  the  morning  I  passed 
the  old  camp  ground.  The  night  packet,  due  at 
the  county  seat  early  in  the  morning,  was  landing 
at  the  big  plant  when  I  got  there.  Why  not  get 
my  prisoners  aboard  it  and  be  sure? 

I  ran  to  the  landing  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  had 
them  on  deck.  The  captain  fixed  it  with  the  fore- 
man to  look  out  for  my  boats.  I  would  came  back 
for  them  on  the  packet's  return  trip  that  night. 

Well,  when  I  got  my  men  in  a  good  light  on  the 
packet,  the  man  I  thought  was  Howard  Byng  re- 
sembled him  only  in  physique  and  hair.  I  was 


40  FIGHTING  BYNG 

more  delighted  at  that  discovery  than  I  was  at  the 
complete  success  of  my  night  '$Mjtpk.  Byng  had 
a  bold,  fighting  aquiline  nose  and  a  big  man's  ear, 
brain  and  features  to  back  it.  This  man's  nose 
traveled  down  like  a  roller  coaster,  blank,  horsey 
features,  a  dish-faced,  vicious  animal,  his  ears 
like  the  flap  of  a  tent,  his  eyes  burning  like  a 
cornered  wolf. 

Whether  it  was  thinking  so  much  of  Howard 
Byng  or  the  geography,  I  had  an  impression  of 
his  nearness  and  it  bothered  me.  I  asked  the 
somnolent  sheriff  about  him  after  delivering  to 
him  the  ''swamp  angels"  next  morning.  He  said 
he  wasn't  much  of  a  traveler,  never  heard  of  any 
such  man  and  didn't  ever  know  about  the  big 
plant  where  I  left  the  boats,  though  only  thirty 
miles  up  the  river. 

The  packet  carried  me  back  there  about  ten  at 
night,  and,  having  no  freight,  only  touched  to  let 
me  off.  My  boats  were  on  one  end  of  the  well- 
built  landing  wharf  paralleling  the  river,  and  now 
at  the  other  end  was  a  little  schooner  of  perhaps 


FIGHTING  BYNG  41 

two  hundred  tons  burden.  It  was  all  lit  up  and 
everyone  was  busy,  paying  no  attention  to  me. 
Doors  wide  open,  I  went  about  to  satisfy  my  curi- 
osity. The  long,  electric-lighted  building  was  a 
paper  mill.  The  sheet  it  made  was  not  very  wide, 
perhaps  four  and  half  feet,  but  it  came  white  as 
snow  onto  big  rolls  as  fast  as  a  horse  could  gallop. 
I  saw  some  finished  and  marked  for  a  big  New 
York  newspaper.  That  explained  the  schooner 
outside.  "  Where  in  the  name  of  Heaven  do  they 
get  the  material  to  make  such  paper?"  I  asked 
myself. 

Back  of  the  paper  mill  was  a  great  surprise,  an 
acre  of  blazing  furnaces  lighted  up  the  night  and 
leviathan  steel  retorts,  throbbing  with  life  and 
pressure,  emitted  the  pleasant  odor  of  turpen- 
tine, served  by  standard-gauge  tracks,  and,  behind 
them,  mountain  high,  was  a  pile  of  blackened  pine- 
tree  stumps  with  long  roots,  apparently  plucked 
from  the  earth.  They  were  piled  by  an  up-to-date 
derrick,  with  steel  arms  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
in  length.  On  a  platform  opposite,  paralleling  the 


42 

tracks,  were  tiered  cotton  bales,  shining  white  in 
the  furnace  lights. 

I  returned  to  the  paper-machine  room,  thought- 
ful indeed.  The  immense  cut-over  stump  lands  of 
Georgia,  stretching  to  the  horizon  over  the  tide- 
washed  river,  took  on  a  distinctly  different  aspect. 

That  sheet  of  paper,  coming  down  over  the  long 
row  of  steam-heated  dryers,  through  the  callen- 
ders,  wound  into  perfect  rolls  at  express  speed, 
dropped  to  the  floor  automatically,  as  sheaves  of 
wheat  from  a  harvester.  A  giant  Corliss  engine, 
seen  through  the  door,  ponderously  and  merrily 
answered  to  the  life-giving  ether  from  the  roar- 
ing boilers.  Happily  married  to  its  task  an  elec- 
tric generator  beside  it  suggested  a  sparrow, 
saucily  singing  a  tune  to  an  eagle.  I  leaned 
against  a  pillar,  transported  to  another  world, 
the  world  of  use,  and  felt  some  of  its  joy.  Then 
I  became  conscious  of  being  observed,  but  did  not 
turn. 

The  paper  machine,  all  new  and  perfectly 
geared,  was  so  long  that  its  even  width  appeared 


FIGHTING  BTNG  48 

to  narrow  at  the  far  end  where  the  sheet  origi- 
nated as  wet  pulp.  The  concrete  floor  was  like  a 
newly  planed  board.  The  machinery  was  not 
noisy,  it  sung.  Every  belt,  gear  and  bearing  was 
timed.  The  place  actually  hypnotized.  It  was 
divine.  Divinity  and  usefulness  are  the  same. 
The  machines  seemed  to  be  singing  a  hymn  to  some 
master-mind. 

Behind  me  an  order  was  given.  There  was 
something  familiar  in  the  voice,  the  sureness  of 
a  natural  commander,  which  I  associated  at  once 
with  the  wonderful  operation  going  on  before  me. 
A  stalwart  back  was  toward  me.  The  lower  brain, 
neck,  shoulders  and  torso  belonged  to  a  man,  per- 
haps not  quite  as  wide  or  tall  as  our  big  High- 
landers. My  interest  intensified  until  suddenly 
he  appeared  to  turn  at  my  will  for  a  face  view. 
This  time  there  could  be  no  mistaking  the  deli- 
cately chiseled,  fighting,  aquiline  nose,  marvelous 
jaw  and  chin  of  Howard  Byng. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BYNG  stared  hard  for  a  moment,  then  his  snap- 
ping eyes  kindled  and  his  face  evidenced  genuine 
delight  as  he  recognized  me.  That  his  affection 
had  endured  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  he  ad- 
vanced with  long,  graceful  strides  to  meet  me.  He 
grasped  my  hand  with  a  tremendous  squeeze  of 
heartiness  and  I  am  bound  to  confess  that  as  he 
stood  before  me  I  could  see  in  the  makings  the 
refined  Howard  Byng — man  of  affairs. 

"Mr.  Wood!"  he  began,  fervently  pressing  my 
hand,  "there  is  no  living  person  I  would  rather 
see  than  you.  How  did  you  get  here?  How  did 
you  find  this  jumping-off  place?  I  can  hardly 
believe  it  is  you." 

"Howard" — I  hesitated,  feasting  my  eyes  upon 

44 


FIGHTING  BYNG  45 

him — "it  was  indeed  something  of  an  accident 
that  brought  me  here.'* 

"Well,  suh,  yon  are  here  and  that's  enough.  I 
don't  care  how  you  got  here,  but  I  swear  by  the 
great  horn  spoon  that  you  are  not  going  to  get 
away  from  me.  I  have  waited  too  long  for  this 
meeting.  Your  bed,  board,  and  comfort  are  pro- 
vided for  indefinitely."  His  eyes  glittered,  as  he 
looked  me  full  in  the  face  and  restrained  the  pent- 
up  enthusiasm  of  his  natural  Southern  hospitality. 
Then,  affectionately  he  took  my  arm  and  led 
me  into  his  office,  a  big,  cheerful  room,  some- 
thing of  a  library,  suggesting  comfort  and  refine- 
ment. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  man,  sit  down  and  tell  me 
all  about  it,"  said  I,  sinking  into  an  inviting 
leather  chair. 

"These  cigars  are  made  especially  for  me,"  he 
exclaimed  like  an  overjoyed  boy  as  he  passed  the 
humidor,  "but  I  can't  say  you'll  like  'em." 

"They  are  bound  to  be  an  improvement  on  the 
dog-leg  twist  you  once  offered  me  while  we  sat 


46  FIGHTING  BYNG 

on  the  sled  against  the  sap  barrel,"  I  suggested 
with  a  laugh. 

"You  remember  that,  too,"  said  he,  slapping 
his  knee.  "Well,  suh,  I  have  thought  of  it  myself 
more  'n  a  hundred  times.  Yes,  suh,  that  all  seems 
like  many,  many  years  ago,  but  I'll  never  forget 
it.  You  know  it's  mighty  strange,  and  if  I  hadn't 
been  a  dunce  I  would  have  guessed  you  were 
around  when  I  came  out  this  mornin'  and  saw 
that  strange  boat,  the  copper  'still,'  and  the 
demijohns  full  of  moonshine.  My  foreman  told  me 
where  they  cum  from,  but,  of  course,  I  nevah 
thought  of  you  havin'  anything  to  do  with  it. 
Strange,  too,  for  I  have  sorter  been  thinking  about 
you  the  last  three  or  four  days." 

"It's  the  old  story — think  hard  and " 

"Yes,  suh,  and,  doggone  it  all,  I  knew  you  tole 
me  you  were  going  into  the  revenue  when  you  left 
me  in  Savannah.  I've  been  in  Washington  two 
or  three  times  and  tried  to  find  you.  I  nevah  once 
thought  of  you  in  connection  with  this  local  mat- 
ter. What  a  fool ! "  he  exclaimed,  his  eyes  gloat- 


FIGHTING   BYNG  4,7 

t 
ing  upon  me  from  his  comfortable  chair  across  the 

big  flat  desk  between  us. 

He  did  not  speak  grammatically  as  yet,  but 
there  were  signs  of  improvement,  and  the  effort 
in  that  direction  was  apparent. 

"You  know,"  he  went  on,  delightedly,  "there 
must  have  been  something  wrong  with  me.  I 
wanted  to  find  you  the  worst  way,  and  I  thought 
I  looked  around  all  right,  when  I  went  there — I 
mean  to  the  revenue  office  in  Washington.  First 
a  boy  would  ask  me  questions,  then  a  man,  then 
another  man,  and  then  about  the  time  I  thought 
I  was  going  to  get  somewhere  they  would  tell  me 
there  was  no  such  person  there.  Do  you  suppose 
they  thought  I  was  a  moonshiner  just  finished  a 
long  term,  and  was  gunnin'  for  the  man  who  put 
me  in?"  he  concluded,  with  a  dry  little  laugh. 

I  had  to  explain  that  for  our  safety  in  private 
life  operatives  were  known  to  everyone  but  the 
chiefs  by  a  number — and  sometimes  by  another 
name.  The  office  never  divulges  the  real  names, 
private  addresses,  or  where  we  work.  Here  we 


48  FIGHTING  BYNG 

were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  an  old-time 
darkey. 

"Yes,  Marse  Howard,"  said  lie  cheerfully,  in 
answer  to  the  button. 

"Uncle  George,"  began  Howard  Byng,  with  his 
soul  shining  in  his  eyes,  "a  prodigal  has  returned. 
We  ain't  got  any  fatted  calf  to  kill,  but  we  have 
got  food,  and  plenty  of  it.  Bring  us  something 
so  that  we  may  eat  and  make  merry, — and  then 
prepare  the  guest  cabin.  Didn't  I  tell  you  when 
we  finished  it  that  we  would  have  use  for  it  soon? " 
All  this  in  a  fatherly  manner  toward  the  old 
servant. 

"Now,  Mr.  Wood,  I've  got  you  in  a  corner. 
First  I  want  to  know  how  long  you  can  stay  with 
me.  You  show  up  just  when  I  need  you,  and 
excuses  don't  go." 

His  cordiality  was  so  real  that  I  felt  glad  I  had 
cleaned  up  my  last  matter  for  the  "Excise"  ahead 
of  time  and  was  not  due  to  report  to  the  new 
division  for  several  weeks.  Indeed  it  seemed  good 
to  be  able  to  acquiesce  for  I  could  readily  see  that 


FIGHTING  BYNG  49 

his  isolation  intensified  an  otherwise  normal  de- 
sire for  companionship.  And  there  did  appear 
to  be  something  on  which  he  needed  advice  or  a 
side  light.  He  was  as  delighted  as  a  young  boy 
when  I  said  if  I  could  establish  communication 
with  Washington  I  might  stay  on  for  several 
days. 

"Good — fine!"  he  exclaimed,  and,  slapping  me 
on  the  back,  arose  to  move  a  reading  lamp  and 
clear  the  center  of  the  desk  for  the  food. 

"I  finally  got  a  long-distance  wire  in  here  and 
am  open  to  the  world  now,"  said  he  happily.  "Do 
you  know  you  took  a  big  chance  leaving  those  jugs 
of  moonshine  in  that  open  boat  I  If  I  hadn  't  seen 
and  put  'em  away  you'd  'a'  had  none  left  and 
my  works  would  have  stopped.  Niggers,  and 
white  men,  too,  for  that  matter,  do  love  moon- 
shine. I've  seen  that  boat  pass  here  lots  of  times 
and  wondered  how  long  they'd  run." 

"All  I  was  thinking  about  was  getting  those  men 
off  my  hands,"  I  replied.  Then  I  related,  briefly, 
how  I  happened  to  find  their  "look-out"  while  in 


50  FIGHTING  BYNG 

a  stupor,  and  of  my  sensations  when  I  imagined  I 
saw  Howard  himself  inside  the  ' '  still ' '  house,  and 
how,  through  luck,  I  had  surprised  and  stunned 
them  by  using  dynamite.  He  expressed  great 
wonder  at  my  escape  and  showed  intense  eager- 
ness to  hear  every  little  detail  of  my  experiences. 
"Well,  suh,  you  have  performed  the  well-nigh 
impossible.  And  that  is  because  you  went  at  it 
just  right.  To  men  living  in  these  swamps,  where 
you  never  hear  anything  louder  than  a  bull  frog, 
a  rifle  shot  is  a  terrific  report,  but  when  you  let 
loose  a  real  noise,  blow  in  the  whole  side  of  their 
dug-out  and  let  stumps  roll  in  on  them  as  you  say, 
they  couldn't  help  but  give  up.  Those  varmints 
have  been  here  for  a  long  time.  They  are  bad 
men.  You  know  moonshiners  ain't  always  bad 
when  you  know  'em.  That  old  jail  down  there 
was  built  before  the  revolution,  an'  they've  got 
friends  that  hate  the  law.  These  people  along 
this  river  are  two  hundred  years  behind  the  times, 
just  like — just  like  I  was  when  you  found  me  in 
the  turpentine  woods,  an'  I  would  have  been  there 


FIGHTING  BYNG  51 

yit  if  it  wasn't  for  you.  You  know  that!"  he  ex- 
claimed. "An'  you  were  right  when  you  thought 
I  might  be  inoonshinin'.  How  I  kept  out  of  it  I 
don't  know  for  I  hated  the  law,  too,  then.  They 
argue  that  whiskey  was  made  a  long  time,  a  hun- 
dred years  or  more,  without  tax,  and  ought  to  be 
free  yit.  And  that  feeling  ag  'in '  the  law  is  fierce, 
and  these  people  are  awful  spiteful  when  they're 
ag'in'  anything.  You  can  hardly  understand  it 
unless — unless  you've  been  one  of  'em,  like  I 
have." 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  old  black  servant, 
who  covered  the  desk  with  linen  on  which  he 
placed  platters  of  cold  meat,  wild  honey  and  bis- 
cuits. Except  for  the  slight  vibration  and  hum 
of  the  big  paper  plant,  I  could  easily  have  imag- 
ined myself  lunching  in  the  library  of  a  Fifth 
Avenue  home. 

"Now,"  resumed  Byng,  after  we  had  drawn  up, 
"I  used  to  like  moonshine,  but  somehow  I  don't 
care  for  it  any  more.  But  this  elderberry  juice — 
\\oods  stuff,  too,"  said  he,  pulling  a  cork  from  a 


52  FIGHTING  BYNG 

bottle,  "is  mighty  fine.  No  kick  in  it  especially, 
but  just  as  good,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  how  near  I 
came  to  being  a  moonshiner  myself  right  where 
you  found  your  gang.'* 

"I  am  eager  to  hear  it,  Howard,"  said  I  laugh- 
ingly, "and  I  won't  turn  it  in  at  headquarters, 
either. " 

"You  know,"  said  he,  "when  you  left  me  there 
in  Savannah,  and  your  steamer  got  out  of  sight,  I 
felt  pretty  bad.  You  taught  me  to  read  and  write 
and  gave  me  an  idea  about  things  outside.  You 
were  my  friend.  You  may  not  know  exactly  how  a 
Georgia  Cracker  sticks  to  his  friends.  Well,  when 
I  couldn't  see  you  any  more,  I  went  over  behind  a 
pile  of  cotton  bales,  laid  down  and  began  to  beller 
just  like  a  kid,  or  a  fool.  Then  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  wanted  to  die.  The  world  had  come  to  an 
end  for  me  an'  I  didn't  care  a  damn  if  I  died  on 
the  spot.  Some  men  came  along  and  said,  'See 
the  Cracker  with  a  cryin'  jag. '  Do  you  know  what 
a  'bettering  jag'  is?  Well,  when  there  is  a  funeral 
down  here  there's  usually  plenty  of  moonshine. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  53 

Some  want  to  holler,  some  want  to  shoot,  and 
most  of  the  wimmen  get  on  a  'bettering  jag.'  I 
thought  of  that.  Then  I  began  to  wonder  what  I 
was  blubberin'  about  anyhow.  Certain  it  wasn't 
for  you.  Then  it  came  into  my  fool  head  that  I 
was  jest  sorry  and  bellerin'  for  myself.  Why 
should  I  be  sorry  for  myself?  I  had  two  good 
legs,  two  good  arms,  and  two  good  eyes.  So  I  got 
up  and  walked  away.  You  told  me  what  to  do  an* 
I  was  going  to  do  it.  Then  I  came  back  here — 
not  exactly  here,  but  back  to  the  old  camp  we  had 
just  left.  Finally  I  did  find  some  land  I  could 
buy,  not  very  much,  but  it  had  an  old  turpentine 
*  still'  on  it,  right  here  on  this  spot  we  are  now 
sitting.  I  built  this  building  so  my  office  would  be 
where  I  had  made  my  first  experiment — just  as 
you  told  me  to." 

"Evidently  you  prospered  from  the  jump,"  said 
I,  looking  about  the  big,  well-finished  room. 

"No,  suh,  at  first  I  didn't  get  anything.  I  was 
tired  and  mad.  I  came  near  cussin'  you  for  tell- 
ing me  to  spend  my  money  for  nuthin'.  The 


54  FIGHTING  BYNG 

moonshiners  found  I  was  all  right,  and  offered  to 
help  me  start,  and  several  times  I  was  just  going 
to  do  it,  but  somehow  I  couldn't.  You  may  not 
believe  it,  but  when  I  was  ready  to  go  moon- 
shinin',  you  just  stood  in  front  of  me.  I  could 
feel  you  touch  my  arm,  and  point  to  the  old  tur- 
pentine still.  You  made  me  go  ahead,  an',  after  I 
worked  and  worked,  thought  and  thought,  I  found 
out  how  to  work  it.  I  struck  it  right.  I  discovered 
the  secret  of  makin'  turpentine  and  rosin  from 
these  here  stumps,  and  paper  from  what's  left— 
and  you  stood  right  here  and  laughed  with  me,  and 
was  as  glad  as  I  was.  And  nobody  has  yet  found 
out  how  I  do  it,  and  they  ain't  going  to.  I'm 
twenty  years  ahead  of  'em.  Sneaks  come  here  to 
find  out  but  I  spot  'em  quick  and  kick  'em  out. 
I'll  tell  you  the  secret  because  you  made  me  do  it. 
Now,  suh,  jest  tell  me  what  it  was  that  kept  me 
from  making  moonshine,  and  made  me  go  ahead 
as  I  did.  To-morrow,  when  it's  light,  I'll  show 
it  all  to  you.  It  ain't  much,  but  I've  made  friends 
in  Savannah  and  New  York  where  I  sell  and  buv 


55 

my  supplies.  I  have  a  nice  little  plant  that's  mak- 
ing money,  and  the  moonshiners  have  gone  to 
prison.  That's  enough  fur  to-night.  You  had  no 
sleep  last  night  an'  I'm  going  to  put  you  to  bed. 
Come  on." 

As  we  parted  at  my  cabin  door  Howard  Byng 
put  his  long  arms  about  me  and  gave  me  a  tight 
squeeze. 


CHAPTER  V 

I  WON'T  try  to  account  for  Byng's  impression 
that  I,  though  far  away,  was  flogging  him  along 
to  achievement.  Such  influence  is  more  common 
than  might  be  supposed,  so  common,  in  fact,  that 
the  wonder  is  that  it  is  not  labeled  and  tagged  by 
everyone,  instead  of  remaining  a  part  of  the 
equipment  of  first-class  secret-service  men,  and 
accomplished  scoundrels. 

Criminologists  understand  it.  It  is  the  liber- 
tine's long  suit.  Power  to  obsess  through  concen- 
trated thought.  Now  that  is  as  substantial  as 
railroad  spikes  and  can  nail  its  victims  to  the 
flooring  of  the  bottomless  pits,  or  carry  them 
safely,  chastely  through  a  life  well  spent. 

Aaron  Burr  was  a  most  notable  disciple  of 

56 


FIGHTING  BYNG  57 

« 
thought  transference.    He  prepared  his  victim's 

mind  at  safe  distance,  so  that  the  finish  was  a 
mere  matter  of  his  own  convenience,  and  it  is 
written  he  never  failed.  "Women  of  all  classes, 
well-meaning  and  virtuous,  are  unable  to  under- 
stand this  phenomena,  until  too  late,  in  many 
cases.  Early  training  and  intuition  are  the  safe- 
guards. But  good  influences  are  more  powerful 
and  account  for  more  wonderful  occurrences. 
Power  of  analysis,  derived  from  education  and 
experience,  enable  men,  and  especially  women,  to 
overcome  their  impulses ;  to  keep  their  minds  open 
and  cautious,  thus  enabling  them  to  unconsciously 
shield  themselves  against  auto-suggestion  from 
cunning  rascals.  I  would  not  offer  this  if  it  did 
not  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  life  of  Howard 
Byng. 

When  I  awakened  next  morning  I  could  have 
imagined  myself  ir.  a  first-class  hotel.  The  room 
furnishings  were  of  the  best,  with  a  generous  bath 
and  every  convenience.  But  I  had  only  to  look 
out  of  the  cabin  window  at  the  river  and  the  great 


58  FIGHTING  BYNG 

cut-over  land  beyond,  with  its  blackened  stumps 
grinning  above  the  stunted  growth,  like  numerous 
outpost  sentinels  of  the  infernal  regions,  to  re- 
adjust myself  to  my  exact  location.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  small  private  yacht  anchored,  amid- 
stream,  just  off  the  mill. 

What  Byng  called  his  guest  cabin  was  a  good- 
sized  bungalow,  on  higher  ground  some  distance 
below  the  plant  along  the  river.  It  had  the  open 
hall  of  the  Southern  type  and  a  veranda  all 
around,  every  room  being  private,  with  entrance 
from  either  hall  or  veranda.  While  the  old  darkey 
prepared  breakfast  I  looked  out  over  the  one-story 
concrete  mill  and  the  smoking  plant  below,  still 
in  full  blast,  running  twenty-four  hours  a  day, 
as  all  paper  mills  must.  Farther  back  were  com- 
fortable cabins  for  the  negro  help. 

Byng  soon  came  up  and  was  thoroughly  elated. 
He  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  to  the  other 
side  of  the  cabin  and  pointed  out  the  yacht  in  the 
river.  "I'm  mighty  glad  he  has  come  while  you 
are  here,"  he  said.  "Somehow  I  feel  safe  now. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  59 

That  yacht  belongs  to  a  Mr.  Purdue.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  the  Purdues  of  New  York?"  he 
paused  to  inquire  anxiously. 

I  thought  I  could  recall  a  Purdue,  once  a  promi- 
nent railroad  man. 

" That's  him,  that's  what  he  wrote.  He's  got 
twenty  thousand  acres  of  stump  land,  mostly  pine, 
a  little  gum  and  chestnut,  joinin'  mine  on  the 
north  and  up  the  river,  and  wants  to  sell  out  to  me. 
It's  a  big  deal  and  I  want  your  advice.  We've 
been  dickering  by  mail  for  some  time  and  finally 
he  promised  to  run  down,  but  I  never  expected  he 
would.  His  boat  isn't  very  big,  but  she's  deep 
and  I  don't  see  how  he  ever  got  up  the  river. 
Must  have  caught  the  ebb  and  had  luck,"  he  went 
on,  still  excited.  "He  seems  to  have  his  family, 
too.  I  saw  two  or  three  wimmen  moving  about," 
he  added,  as  if  that  was  an  added  responsibility, 
or  an  important  event.  Outside  of  negroes, 
women  were  seldom  seen  in  that  desolate  coun- 
try. 

"You  see,"  continued  Byng,  as  we  sat  down  to 


60  FIGHTING  BYNG 

breakfast,  "I've  got  to  be  careful.  As  near  as  I 
can  figure,  I  am  the  only  one  who  knows  how  to 
make  enough  out  of  my  turpentine  and  rosin 
from  pine  stumps  so  that  my  paper  product  is  all 
velvet.  They  know  I  do  it  and  are  trying  their 
heads  off  to  find  out  my  method.  But  they  never 
will.  I'll  tell  you  and  that's  all.  Just  as  you  said, 
years  ago,  the  soil  goes  clear  down  and '11  never 
stop  raisin'  cotton.  I'm  going  to  take  you  out 
to-day  and  show  you  the  class  of  cotton  I'm  raisin' 
where  I  pulled  the  stumps  out.  I've  got  a  lot  of 
stump  land,  that'll  last  a  long  time  the  way  I'm 
going  now,  but  I'd  like  to  have  enough  to  last  all 
my  life,  and  this  old  codger  has  got  it  joinin'  me, 
and  it  ain't  worth  a  damn  cent  to  anyone  else. 
Now  do  you  see  why  I'm  a  little  excited?"  he 
asked,  with  a  broad,  cordial  smile,  "and  do  you 
see  the  fight  me  and  this  feller  is  goin'  to  have 
if  he  really  wants  to  get  rid  of  payin'  non-resident 
taxes  1  Of  course,  he 's  a  business  man  and  sharp, 
much  sharper  than  me.  That 's  why  I  am  so  glad 
you're  here  to  sort  of  watch  over  me  in  the  deal, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  61 

and  see  when  I'm  going  wrong.  What  do  you 
think  I'd  better  do?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know;  if  you  have  written " 

"No,  I  ain't.  I  got  bit  once  writin'  letters. 
And  once  is  enough  for  me,"  he  interrupted 
sharply. 

"Then  the  only  way  is  to  let  things  take  a 
natural  course.  Let  him  raise  the  trade  question. 
Invite  them  ashore,  for  they  have  probably  been 
cruising  for  some  time  and  are  tired  of  their 
cramped  quarters  in  the  small  yacht.  Let  them 
occupy  this  bungalow  all  to  themselves.  You  can 
find  some  other  place  for " 

* '  Find  another  place  for  you ! "  he  interrupted, 
dropping  his  knife  and  fork.  "Hell's  Bells!  Me 
find  another  place  for  you!  Not  if  he  had  all  of 
Southern  Georgia  to  sell  for  a  penny.  You  are 
in  my  best  guest  chamber  and  you're  goin*  to 
stay  there,  suh.  You  can  stay  on  the  rest  of  your 
life  and  have  Uncle  George  do  nuthin'  but  wait 
on  you  all  the  time.  That's  my  orders,"  he  added, 
with  perfect  sincerity,  and  with  such  grace  as 


62  FIGHTING  BYNG 

only  a  Southern  man  knows  how  to  extend  to  a 
trusted  friend.  "Besides,  unless  he's  got  a  big 
family,  there 's  room  to  spare. ' ' 

"Well,  you  get  the  idea.  Be  nice  to  him,  but 
wait  for  him  to  talk  trade.  You  know  how  much 
more  chesty  and  louder  a  rooster  crows  when  he 
is  in  his  own  barnyard  and  among  his  own  hens  I ' ' 

"Yes — yes,  I've  seen  'em  at  it,  they're  right 
laughable, ' '  he  replied,  quite  able  to  see  the  appli- 
cation. 

"Well,  you  are  on  your  own  ground,  in  your 
own  plant,  and  while  you  needn't  crow  so  loud, 
you  can  keep  your  chest  away  out." 

"Do  you  think  I  have  done  so  much?  It  has 
come  so  slow,  mighty  hard,  so  much  plannin'. 
Machinery  is  hard  to  learn,  but  I  got  it  down  fine 
.now — engines,  dynamos,  and  all." 

"Yes — you  have  astonished  me,  Howard;  your 
all-around  progress  is  amazing,  and  in  another 
five  years  you  will  be  the  most  prominent  man  in 
Southern  Georgia." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  63 

"You  can't  ever  know  what  it  means  to  me  to 
hear  you  say  that,  for" — he  hesitated  again  to 
control  himself — "for  I  would  still  be  a  Georgia 
Cracker  if  it  wasn't  for  you,"  and  unashamed  he 
looked  at  me  squarely  with  moistened  eyes. 

"An' — an'  " — he  halted  again,  contemplating 
as  anyone  might  the  one  thing  apparently  un- 
attainable. His  lips  quivered  as  he  looked  out 
past  the  plant  and  cabins  to  the  growing  cotton, 
the  stump  land  and  swamp  which  his  genius  had 
converted  into  a  garden  of  usefulness  and  beauty. 
Then,  with  even  voice  under  control,  he  went  on, 
"I  ain't  much  more'n  a  Cracker  yit.  I  talk 
Cracker  an'  I  think  Cracker,  that's  why  I  ain't 
no  match  for  Purdue  even  when  it  comes  to  trad- 
in'.  I  ain't  got  time  to  go  to  college.  What  can 
I  do?  There's  no  livin'  being  I'd  take  advice  of 
that  kind  from  'cept  you.  My  dad  and  mam,  I 
suppose,  did  the  best  they  could,  but  they  didn't 
give  me  much  but  life  and  an  appetite  for  moon- 
shine. "We  come  from  good  English  stock,  but 
it's  run  down.  I'm  asking  you  what  I  can  do  for 


64  FIGHTING  BYNG 

myself,  'cause  I  know  you  kin  tell  me,  can't  yer!" 
"Howard,"  I  began,  delighted  that  he  could 
see  himself,  and  that  he  was  ready  and  willing  to 
struggle  for  better  things.  "Are  you  making 
money  now?" 

"Yes,  I'm  making  money.  Every  roll  of  paper 
that  drops  off  that  machine  is  clear  profit,  worth 
around  fifty  dollars,  and  you  know  they  come  off 
pretty  fast,  but,  shuckins! — ye  soon  find  money 
don't  git  ye  much.  It's  more  fun  to  see  the 
black  stumps  turn  into  white  paper  and  the  cotton 
grow  where  they  cum  from!" 

"You  are  better  off  now  than  most  college 
graduates,"  I  replied,  "but  you  do  need  better 
English.  It  will  help  you  to  think  better.  Write 
to  a  northern  college  to  send  you  a  sort  of  tutor 
secretary,  give  him  some  work  about  the  office, 
watch  him,  and  learn  to  talk  as  he  does.  Insist 
that  he  corrects  you  every  time  you  make  a  mis- 
take. Get  the  best  dictionary,  learn  how  to  use 
it,  and  keep  it  handy  all  the  time.  Also  an  ency- 
clopedia, and  an  atlas.  It  strikes  me  that  you  are 


FIGHTING  BYNG  65 

already  long  on  arithmetic. "  He  laughed  at  this 
thought. 

1 ' An '  I'll  git  rid  of  my  Cracker  talk,  will  I?" 
he  asked,  his  face  brightening  in  delightful  antici- 
pation. 

"Yes,  in  a  year." 

"I  knew  there  was  a  way,  an*  you  could  tell 
me,"  said  he.  Then  he  linked  his  arm  in  mine 
and  dragged  me  out  in  the  open  for  a  little  look 
around  the  place. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Purdues  finally  came  ashore,  accompanied 
by  two  servants,  and  occupied  the  opposite  end  of 
the  bungalow. 

Purdue,  retired  capitalist,  undoubtedly  affluent, 
cherubic,  in  facial  appearance  jolly,  and  with  a 
bare  pate  to  which  still  appended  a  slightly  curl- 
ing fringe  below  his  hat,  laughed  with  you,  but 
always  there  came  a  shrewd  glitter  in  his  eyes 
when  trade  matters  were  broached.  The  itching 
palm  and  a  penchant  for  melons  yet  to  be  cut 
were  easily  a  part  of  his  inherited  tendency. 

Mother  Purdue,  muchly  inclined  toward  obesity 
and  cynicism,  was  a  human  interrogation  point. 
Both  children  apparently  loved  the  father  best 
and  made  of  him  a  chum. 

66 


FIGHTING  BYNG  67 

The  elder  married  daughter,  Mrs.  Potter,  was 
Wellesley  finished,  and  a  growing  replica  of  the 
mother.  Her  mouth  had  been  spoiled  at  the  fool- 
ish age  by  a  constant  effort  to  produce  dimples  in 
her  cheeks,  but  matrimony  and  time  had  been  kind 
and  she  was  now  quite  sensible.  But  sister 
Norma,  a  thin,  frail  slip  of  a  girl — the  undoubted 
makings  of  a  beautiful  woman — appeared  to  have 
arbitrarily  rejected  the  least  desirable  tendencies 
of  both  parents,  by  the  sacrifice  of  corpu- 
lence. 

I  was  busy  with  final  reports  and  paid  little 
attention  to  the  new  arrivals  during  the  week  that 
followed,  but  Byng,  who  ate  with  me  usually,  said 
that  they  were  having  the  time  of  their  lives,  and 
that  papa  Purdue  had  evidently  forgotten  he  had 
stump  land  for  sale.  Their  boat  drew  too  much 
water  to  navigate  the  river  above,  and,  at  Pur- 
due's suggestion,  the  moonshiner's  old  flat-bot- 
tomed, square-end,  scowlike  boat  was  cleaned  out, 
and,  after  the  motor  was  overhauled,  was  used 
by  them  for  frequent  trips  of  inspection  to  their 


68  FIGHTING  BYNG 

property  above,  a  tarpaulin  being  provided  to 
protect  them  against  the  sun. 

One  mid-afternoon  Byng  rushed  excitedly  to  the 
bungalow.  He  had  received  a  telephone  message 
from  the  station,  for  me.  It  was  from  head- 
quarters : 

"Sheriff  reports  your  prisoners  broke  jail  last 
night.  Still  at  large.  Report  details  of  escape, 
insist  on  posse,  and  do  what  you  can  to  appre- 
hend." 

"Didn't  I  tell  ye!  Didn't  I  tell  ye?"  he  re- 
peated, walking  about  the  room.  "That  damn 
sheriff  is  about  half-moonshiner  himself,  and  the 
old  jail  would  fall  down  if  ye  looked  at  it,"  he 
added  excitedly. 

"Where  will  these  fellows  strike  for,  Howard!" 
I  asked,  gathering  up  my  writing. 

"You  know  Cracker  moonshiners  as  well  as  I 
do,  maybe.  You  know  they  are  like  a  she-bear,  or 
a  fox.  The  minute  they're  loose  they  go  back  to 
their  hole  and  cubs.  They  haven't  had  any  moon- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  69 

shine  and  their  tongues  are  hanging  fer  it.  I'll 
bet  you  them  fellers  are  back  to  the  old  still  by 
this  time,  digging  fer  some  they've  hid  and  get- 
ting ready  to  make  more.  They  jest  can't  stay 
away.  They  think  you've  gone,  an*  the  sheriff '11 
let  'em  alone.  He  always  has." 

"But  they  escaped  last  night.  They  must  come 
thirty  or  forty  miles,  so  would  not  have  quite 
time  to  be  there  now,  would  they?"  Even  as  I 
asked  the  question  I  was  shedding  white  duck  for 
my  working  clothes. 

" Yes — that's  so,  but  they'll  be  there  before  you 
can  get  there.  What  are  you  going  to  do!" 

"I  think  I'll  try  and  beat  the  moonshiners  to  it 
and  have  things  ready  for  them.  As  long  as  you 
are  sure  they  are  going  back  I  think  they  ought 
to  have  a  hearty  welcome,  Howard,  don't  you?" 
I  asked,  putting  on  high-top  boots  and  yanking 
my  kit  from  under  the  bed  which  I  thought  was 
used  for  the  last  time. 

"Yes,  sure,  but  ye  got  to  take  me  along,"  he 
said,  facing  me,  delighted  at  the  prospect 


70  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"  Howard,  these  men  have  likely  picked  up  guns 
and  may  put  up  a  nasty  fight.  I  will  get  them  by 
some  kind  of  strategy  as  I  did  before.  Besides, 
if  I  get  it,  that's  why  I  am  paid.  You  can't  be 
spared  so  well,  for  you  are  at  the  head  of  a  busi- 
ness, by  which  a  lot  of  people  live.  You  have 
guests  here  to  look  after,  too,"  I  urged. 

He  stopped  at  the  window  and  soberly  looked 
out  across  the  river.  Then  he  walked  to  the  other 
window,  gazed  over  a  long  field  of  growing  cotton, 
a  verdant  green  punctuation  of  a  new  era,  a  new 
life  to  him  and  the  whole  section. 

"An'  you  want  me  to  stay  an'  let  you  go  up 
there  alone?"  he  asked  in  an  injured  tone,  some- 
what in  the  same  manner  as  he  had  requested  me 
to  take  him  north  five  years  before.  I  could  see 
Mamma  Purdue,  out  of  stays,  sound  asleep  in  a 
steamer  chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  veranda, 
with  Papa  nearby  examining  critically  the  latest 
vital  statistics  of  Wall  Street. 

"No,  siree — ye  got  to  lemme  go  this  time.  Do 
you  'spose  I'm  going  to  let  any  damn  Cracker 


FIGHTING  BYNG  71 

moonshiner  get  a  drop  on  me  with  a  long  John, 
when  I  got  a  gun  down  here  that  shoots  a  dozen 
times  while  he's  loadin'.  Yes,  I  got  guests,  but 
you're  the  only  one  I  can  see  now,  and  I  ain't 
going  ter  let  you  enter  that  swamp  with  three 
ag  'in '  ye.  No,  sir,  ye  got  to  lemme  go, ' '  he  insisted 
vehemently. 

"All  right,  Howard,  get  ready,"  I  replied,  see- 
ing there  was  no  use  to  object.  "When's  flood 
water  I  We  Ve  got  to  have  it  to  get  up  that  creek 
with  a  boat. ' ' 

"She  floods  to-day  at  five.  I  know;  for  my 
schooner  Canby  will  cross  the  bar  then — in- 
bound." 

"As  we  will  have  less  than  two  hours  to  get  to 
the  creek  we  must  hurry,"  I  said.  "But  keep 
mum.  If  Mamma  Purdue  hears  of  it  she  will 
think  the  whole  family  is  going  to  be  kidnapped 
or  murdered,"  I  added,  hurrying  preparations. 

"We'll  have  to  go  in  that  little  skiff  of  your'n. 
The  Purdue  man  went  out  with  the  young  wimmen 
a  while  ago  in  the  other  one." 


72  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Get  ready  and  be  down  at  the  mill  as  soon  as 
you  can." 

"Ill  be  there  in  a  jiffy,"  he  said,  hurrying 
away. 

As  I  hastened  out,  Mamma  Purdue's  astonish- 
ment at  my  changed  appearance  suddenly  con- 
verted a  waking  yawn  into  an  interrogation,  but 
my  intercourse  with  the  visitors  had  been  limited 
to  observation  and  prevented  inquiry. 

Byng,  again  a  woodsman  in  hunting  outfit, 
brought  out  the  oars  and  helped  the  little  electric 
motor  skiff  along.  His  great  arms  and  back  de- 
lighted in  action,  as  he  lapsed  into  the  silent  wild- 
ness  of  a  woodsman  hunter.  He  scanned  the  river 
banks  unceasingly  for  signs  of  the  skulking  moon- 
shiners, and  when  we  rounded  the  bend  and 
passed  the  spot  where  our  camp  was  five  years 
before  we  exchanged  glances.  Silence  was  neces- 
sary. When  about  two  miles  from  the  creek  we 
met  the  flat-bottom  boat,  close  to  shore,  in  charge 
of  the  ' '  Purdue  man ' '  as  Howard  called  him.  The 
two  girls  were  gathering  lilies  from  over  the  sides. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  73 

Howard  waved  at  them  and,  as  we  passed 
closely,  warned  them  not  to  go  ashore  at  that 
point. 

"Why  did  you  do  that?"  I  queried,  for  the 
shore  had  the  usual  appearance  except  that  it 
seemed  to  still  have  its  full  virgin  growth  of  thick 
gums  and  other  soft  woods  the  loggers  did  not 
yet  want. 

"That's  Alligator  Island.  It's  more'n  a  mile 
long,  and  they  never  cut  it  over  'cause  they  said 
the  gum  logs  were  no  good,  but  more'n  likely  it's 
something  else.  I  go  there  hunting,  but  wear 
heavy  cowhide  boots.  I  can  always  get  a  turkey, 
find  a  bee  tree,  and  a  bear  if  I  want  one,  an'  I've 
seen  bob  cats  as  big  as  houn'  dogs,"  he  told  me 
in  a  suppressed  voice,  but  never  relaxed  his 
scrutiny  of  grass  patches  and  stumps  along  the 
shore  on  both  sides. 

After  we  passed  into  the  creek  he  held  his  rifle 
at  full  cock  and  faced  ahead,  the  least  movement 
of  the  high,  slough  grass  was  given  a  piercing 
search  the  whole  way  up  the  narrowing  creek  to 


74  FIGHTING  BYNG 

the  old  still.  Evidently  the  gang  hadn't  arrived 
there  yet. 

But  Howard  Byng's  sixth  sense,  his  knowledge 
of  woodcraft  and  the  natives,  especially  moon- 
shiners, prompted  speed  for  he  "just  knew"  they 
would  make  a  "bee  line"  for  the  old  still.  His 
feverish  haste  indicated  that  he  felt  even  more 
than  he  voiced.  Some  uprooted  stumps  that  com- 
manded a  good  view  of  the  still  and  the  creek,  too, 
would  hide  us  and  make  a  good  barricade. 

"We  planted  dynamite  on  both  sides  of  the  hole 
made  by  my  last  shot  to  blow  the  place  up,  and  we 
covered  the  small  wires  leading  to  us  behind  the 
stumps. 

I  could  see  why  Byng  knew  the  men  would  come 
back.  There  was  plenty  of  shade  and  lumber, 
making  reconstruction  easy,  and  daylight  inspec- 
tion revealed  that  my  last  shot  had  not  quite  de- 
molished their  outfit. 

Howard  insisted  on  getting  out  of  sight  as  soon 
as  possible.  He  acted  as  though  he  could  see  them 
coming  which  recalled  to  my  mind  his  uncanny 


75 

premonition  when  working  for  me  as  an  "axe- 
man" five  years  before.  He  found  a  place  for  his 
rifle  and  held  it  full  cock,  glancing  occasionally 
back  of  us,  to  prevent  a  possible  surprise  attack 
from  the  rear.  They  must  come  from  the  river 
and  the  sun  being  behind  us  was  to  our  advantage 
if  they  came  from  the  direction  expected. 

It  wasn't  long  before  Byng  started  up  like  a 
tiger  gathering  its  feet  to  spring.  I  could  see 
nothing  at  first.  The  narrow  creek  we  came  up 
was  crookod  as  a  corkscrew  and  was  visible  but  a 
short  distance  through  high  swamp  grass.  How- 
ever, I  soon  saw  what  made  him  start  and  his 
eyes  turn  to  live  coals.  Something  like  a  small 
pole  or  rifle  barrel,  that  was  visible  above  the 
grass  a  half-mile  away,  moved  slowly  but  surely. 
Later  I  could  see  it  was  following  the  meander- 
ings  of  the  creek.  Then,  as  our  eyes  became  ac- 
customed, we  could  see  two  of  them. 

"They've  got  a  boat  and  are  coming  up  the 
creek,"  he  whisporod  between  set  teeth,  the  knots 
again  forming  on  the  lower  angle  of  his  great  jaw. 


76 

It  may  be  that  he  guessed  the  real  truth  before 
I  did,  and  his  blood  began  to  surge.  Intensely 
excited,  we  watched  the  thin  rifle  barrels  follow 
the  creek  slowly,  carefully,  stealthily.  Soon  we 
noticed  two  more,  and  could  hear  the  muffled  ex- 
haust of  a  motor.  I  looked  at  Byng  and  saw  that 
he  understood.  He  was  again  like  a  wild  man, 
burning  for  revenge,  and  he  grew  worse  when  the 
boat  rounded  the  last  bend  in  the  creek,  revealing 
three  outlaws  in  the  boat  in  which  we  saw  the 
Purdue  sisters  but  a  short  time  before.  The  sun- 
protecting  tarpaulin  was  torn  off,  and  it  was  the 
four  supporting  uprights  that  we  saw  moving 
above  the  grass. 

They  came  slowly,  suspiciously  watching  every 
quarter  like  wild  animals.  Byng's  fingers  moved 
so  nervously  about  the  trigger  of  his  rifle  trained 
upon  them  that  I  reached  over  and  touched  his 
shoulder  warningly.  I  was  afraid  he  would  kill 
them,  and  moonshining,  alone,  was  no  cause  for 
that.  He  held  himself  in  restraint  through  power- 
ful effort,  and  awaited  signal  from  me.  I  could 


FIGHTING  BYNG  77 

see  that  he  had  the  same  sickening  thought.  What 
had  they  done  with  the  two  young  ladies — his 
guests  I 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  comfort  and  safety  of  a  Southern  man's 
guests  comes  before  his  own.  They  are  a  part 
of  him  and  more,  and  with  grace  he  acknowledges 
it.  Even  the  Cracker  makes  you  feel  instantly 
what  is  in  his  heart.  What  indignity,  what  insults, 
what  injury  had  been  visited  upon  Howard  Byng  's 
guests  by  these  outlaws  when  they  took  the  boat 
was  a  matter  sure  of  a  reckoning.  Without  my 
restraint  I  am  certain  he  would  have  shot  down 
each  renegade  without  compunction. 

When  they  vacated  the  boat  and  furtively 
searched  for  hostile  signs  I  wrarned  him  again. 
Howard  was  right,  the  two  older  men  made  a 
"bee-line"  for  the  demolished  still,  rolled  a  stump, 
lifted  a  rock  and  eagerly  drank  from  the  hidden 

78 


FIGHTING  BYNG  79 

jug.  The  younger  one  stood  amid  the  wreck  curs- 
ing the  law.  He  brushed  the  jug  aside,  when 
offered  him,  and  went  down  into  the  crater  blasted 
out  by  my  dynamite.  He  was  joined  by  the  older 
men,  evidently  planning  night  covering  from  the 
wreck,  for  the  weather  began  to  threaten  in  the 
east. 

Byng's  eyes  glowed  when  I  nervously  touched 
the  wires  to  the  battery,  exploding  the  planted 
charge.  Dirt  and  debris  shot  high  in  the  air  as  he 
ran  swiftly  to  the  spot  where  our  outlaws  were 
safely  buried  for  the  time  being. 

We  dug  them  out  one  at  a  time  and  secured  their 
hands  and  feet.  They  were  not  hurt,  just  surface 
cuts,  that  bled.  Howard  worked  with  the  rapidity 
and  fierceness  of  a  demon.  I  could  see  he  had 
worked  out  a  plan.  Then  the  two  old  men  begged 
for  whiskey. 

"Give  it  to  them;  they'll  be  easier  to  handle," 
I  suggested. 

He  gave  each  the  jug  and  while  they  drank 
glared  at  the  younger  man,  the  leader.  He  looked 


80 

at  the  threatening  clouds.  It  would  soon  be  dark. 
He  sat  down  where  he  could  see  the  young  leader 's 
face,  whose  wolfish  eyes  were  balls  of  animal  fire. 
Howard  Byng  was  the  Georgia  Cracker  again, 
grim,  determined  and  terrible. 

"Eph  Bradshaw,"  he  began,  with  set  jaw,  "I 
know  you.  I  never  tried  to  hurt  you.  I  knew  you 
was  moonshinin'  here  but  let  you  alone.  You  hev 
hurt  me  and  you  hev  got  ter  pay.  Them  wimmen 
you  put  outen  that  boat  were  my  wimmen.  Decent 
moonshiners  nevah  hurt  wimmen.  What  did  you 
do  with  'em?"  he  asked,  suppressed,  but  now 
actually  a  savage. 

Bradshaw  looked  at  the  eighteen-inch  steel  rod 
I  had  put  between  his  manacled  hands  and  feet 
instead  of  a  chain.  Finally  compelled  by  Byng's 
savage  sense  of  injury,  he  blurted, ' '  They  hev  our 
boat;  we  only  tuk  ut." 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  wimmen  I " 

Bradshaw 's  eyes  burned  fiercer. 

"Eph  Bradshaw,"  began  Byng,  getting  up,  "if 
you  don't  tell  what  you  done  with  them  wimmen, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  81 

my  wimmen,  I'll  cut  yer  tongue  out  and  feed  your 
carcass  to  the  dogs  and  buzzards." 

The  moonshiner  believed  that  I  would  protect 
him  as  my  prisoner.  I  could  not  possibly  have 
saved  him  from  Howard  Byng,  maddened  by  ap- 
prehension that  his  women  folk  had  been  injured 
or  worse.  Every  corpuscle  in  his  swarthy,  rugged 
body  was  aflame,  his  face  fiendishly  illumin- 
ated. 

"With  terrible  determination,  he  took  out  a  hunt- 
ing knife,  opened  and  dropped  it  within  reach, 
threw  the  manacled  moonshiner  on  his  back,  placed 
his  boot  on  his  neck,  then,  with  his  pistol  barrel 
he  pried  his  mouth  open,  deftly  pulling  out  the 
outlaw's  tongue.  Dropping  pistol  for  knife  he 
pressed  the  keen  edge  against  it  and  hissed,  "Now 
will  yer  tell?" 

Although  savage  and  game,  the  moonshiner 
gave  in. 

Whatever  can  be  said  against  appealing  to 
Judge  Lynch  in  the  South  or  elsewhere,  one  thing 
stands  out  on  close  analysis — that  this  court  is 


82  FIGHTING  BYNG 

seldom  appealed  to  except  for  one  thing.  Women- 
folk are  sacred  and  the  least  disrespect,  or  viola- 
tion of  their  rights,  is  sufficient  cause  for  the  sum- 
mary taking  of  life. 

Bradshaw  knew  with  whom  he  had  to  deal  and 
that  Byng  would  not  wait  long  for  his  answer.  A 
few  seconds  and  his  life  would  go  out  forever. 

"We  just  put  'em  out,"  he  panted,  as  soon  as 
he  came  erect  and  had  regained  his  breath. 

"Where  did  you  put  'em  out?"  shouted  the 
fiercely  burning  Howard  Byng. 

"On  the  island.    We  didn't  hurt  'em." 

"What  did  you  do  to  the  man  with  'em?" 

Bradshaw  lapsed  again  into  sullenness  lintil 
Byng  moved  toward  him  menacingly. 

"We  threw  him  in  the  river  because  he  fit  us 
fur  the  boat.  It's  our  boat." 

"You  put  two  lone  wimmen  on  Alligator  Island 
and  not  a  house  fur  ten  miles,  and  threw  the  man 
in  the  river  'cause  he  wanted  to  take  care  of  'em?" 
Byng  paused,  that  he  might  resist  the  vengeance 
that  surged  within  him. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  83 

"Eph  Bradshaw,"  said  he,  solemnly,  "I'm  go- 
ing to  look  fur  them  wimmen,  an'  if  a  hair  on 
their  heads  is  hurt,  I'll  have  yer  heart.  I'll 
smash  yer  skull  like  I  would  a  snake. ' '  The  moon- 
shiner shrunk  back  and  shivered. 

Byng  walked  down  to  the  boats.  The  tide  had 
left  them  on  the  mud.  He  then  gazed  at  the  cloud- 
ing sky  as  he  returned  to  me. 

"I'm  goin'  to  get  them  wimmen.  I  wouldn't 
stay  on  Alligator  Island  a  night  like  this  for  half 
of  Georgia.  A  rain  is  cumin'  from  the  northeast 
and  it'll  be  nasty.  You'll  have  the  tide  after  mid- 
night to  let  you  out  with  these  fellers.  You  can 
bring  'em,  can't  you?" 

"Either  dead  or  alive,"  I  replied. 

Byng  went  back  to  the  boats,  and  tied  the  oars 
inside  the  skiff.  Then,  as  though  the  boat  was  a 
cockleshell,  he  picked  it  up  from  the  mud,  letting 
the  center  seat  rest  on  his  shoulders,  and  started, 
rifle  in  hand,  down  through  high  swamp  grass 
toward  the  river,  three  miles  away. 

"You'll  find  me  along  this  side  of  the  island 


84  FIGHTING  BYNG 

somewhere  when  the  tide  brings  you  there,"  he 
called  back  out  of  the  darkness. 

I  moved  my  manacled  moonshiner  to  the  highest 
part  near  their  lookout  stump,  chained  the  two 
together,  and  began  a  watch  that  would  end  with 
a  flood  tide,  eight  or  ten  hours  later.  I  knew  what 
a  northeast  rain  was  like  in  Georgia — bad  light- 
ning and  thunder.  What  would  become  of  Mrs. 
Potter,  little  more  than  a  girl  with  no  knowledge 
of  woods,  and  the  frail,  nervous  Norma,  who  had 
been  so  carefully  and  lovingly  shielded  by  doting 
parents.  Then  I  thought  of  the  grief  and  distress 
of  her  mother  and  father  awaiting  their  return, 
with  neither  Byng  nor  myself  there  to  offer  advice 
and  consolation. 

I  hoped  devoutly  Byng  would  find  the  girls  and 
get  them  home  before  any  serious  shock  should 
result  from  their  exposure.  Then  I  blamed  my- 
self for  allowing  the  Purdues  to  use  the  moonshin- 
ers' boat. 

Nothing  happened  before  the  flood  tide  when  I 
got  my  prisoners  in  their  boat  and  started.  The 


FIGHTING  BYNG  85 

storm  was  bad,  the  rain  came  in  sheets.  I  got 
alongside  the  island  about  three  in  the  morning, 
when  the  rtorm  abated  somewhat.  Hugging  the 
shore  closely  I  found  Howard's  skiff.  It  told  me 
the  whole  story.  He  had  been  unsuccessful,  those 
girls  had  been  on  the  island  all  night  exposed  to 
that  fearful  storm  without  shelter,  and  possibly 
worse. 

I  ran  in  beside  the  skiff,  stopped  my  motor  and 
listened.  I  heard  nothing  but  owls  that  seemed 
to  have  a  voice  in  the  deadly  stillness  like  human 
beings  in  sore  distress.  I  examined  the  skiff 
again.  It  was  empty  with  the  exception  of  the 
oars.  I  shouted  time  and  again  at  the  top  of  my 
voice,  only  to  be  answered  by  spectral  owls.  I 
could  not  leave  my  prisoners,  so  had  to  await  for 
daybreak,  at  the  first  sign  of  which  I  took  them 
ashore  and  chained  them  to  a  tree. 

I  then  removed  my  boots  to  pour  the  water  out, 
as  they  had  been  full  since  it  began  to  rain.  The 
prisoners  begged  for  moonshine.  They  looked 
pitiful  enough,  wet  to  the  skin,  dirty  and  bloody. 


86  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  gave  them  some,  then  filled  a  flask  and  started. 
The  island  was  not  wide  and  I  went  to  the  lower 
end  and  back,  shouting  repeatedly,  without  re- 
sults. 

When  I  did  find  them  at  the  extreme  upper  end, 
Howard  Byng  presented  a  sorry  spectacle,  this 
wild  Cracker  man,  with  eyes  bloodshot,  clothed 
only  with  pants  and  shirt,  for  he  had  given  the 
girls  everything  else.  He  had  found  them  in  the 
night,  completely  prostrated.  Mrs.  Potter  was 
paralyzed  with  fear  and  could  only  moan,  Norma 
was  shocked  into  hysterics,  lying  with  her  head 
on  Mrs.  Potter's  lap.  They  were  in  white  sum- 
mer attire  and  their  soaked  clothes  clung  to  their 
bodies. 

At  the  sight  of  me  and  daylight  and  several 
swallows  of  moonshine,  Mrs.  Potter  revived 
enough  to  give  serious  attention  to  Norma,  now 
in  sort  of  a  deathlike  coma.  By  vigorous  rubbing 
and  finally  a  stimulant,  she  revived.  Howard  car- 
ried her  in  his  arms,  talking  to  her  as  he  would 
a  child,  telling  her  she  would  "soon  be  home  to 


FIGHTING  BYNG  87 

mamma,'*  while  I  steadied  Mrs.  Potter  toward 
the  boat,  a  half  mile  away.  Until  Norma  was  de- 
livered safely  home  she  was  his  woman. 

At  sight  of  the  prisoners  Mrs.  Potter  clung  to 
me  and  groaned.  Howard  heard  and  tried  to  keep 
Xorma  from  seeing  them,  but  did  not  succeed. 
Her  scream  would  have  pierced  any  man's  heart. 

Mrs.  Potter  realized  her  sister's  danger,  braced 
herself,  but  was  unable  to  do  much  more  than 
wring  her  hands,  moan  and  caress  the  young  girl. 
It  was  an  unpleasant  experience,  and  I  never 
want  to  go  through  it  again.  I  know  how  to 
handle  men,  but  drenched,  starved,  hysterical 
women  were  a  sorry  puzzle  to  me,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  three  prisoners  upon  whose  delivery  my 
reputation  was  staked. 

Howard's  problem  was  greater — he  still  held 
in  his  arms  a  slight,  nervous  child,  less  than  fif- 
teen, paralyzed  with  fear  and  exposure,  who  had 
again  lapsed  into  a  state  of  coma  with  attendant 
convulsions  caused  by  the  sight  of  the  authors  of 
her  sad  plight. 


88  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  was  not  wrong  when  I  anticipated  a  scene 
upon  our  arriving  home.  I  may  have  been  rude 
to  Mrs.  Purdue,  when  she  indignantly  and  weep- 
ingly  demanded  an  explanation.  I  told  her  there 
was  not  a  doctor  within  twenty  miles  and  she  had 
better  take  care  of  her  children  first,  and  ask  for 
explanations  later.  Byng  did  not  get  off  so  well. 
The  "Purdue  man"  finally  came  in  with  a  bad 
bump  on  his  head,  and  a  story  calculated  to  ex- 
cuse his  desertion.  He  had  been  hit  with  an  oar, 
for  which  I  felt  glad,  for  I  saw  cowardice  in  his 
face,  and  I  always  did  hate  a  deserter. 

By  the  time  I  got  my  men  in  the  hands  of  a 
marshal,  and  on  the  way  to  Atlanta,  matters  had 
straightened  out.  Mamma  and  Papa  Purdue  were 
quite  normal  again.  Then  it  was  that  I  thought  I 
detected  a  subtle  change  in  the  atmosphere. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  'T AIN'T  no  tarnel  use  of  you  talking  of  going 
away  now,"  Howard  exploded,  when  I  hinted  at 
leaving.  "YouVe  stuck  your  nose  in  them  pa- 
pers of  your'n  every  minute  an*  I  haven't  had 
even  a  chance  to  talk.  You  got  away  from  me  for 
five  years  and  can  never  do  that  ag  'in  if  I  have  to 
spend  half  my  time  on  yer  trail,"  he  added,  whim- 
sically. 

I  spent  that  day  with  him  and  learned  that  his 
organization  and  planning  were  wonderful.  Cab- 
ins for  his  men  and  a  store  for  their  wants,  stand- 
ard-gauge tracks  built  out  into  the  stump  land 
from  which  a  giant  crane  plucked  stumps  as  you 
would  turnips  and  dropped  them  on  flat  cars.  The 
plant  digested  stumps  with  relish,  released  the  tur- 

89 


90  FIGHTING  BYNG 

pentine  and  rosin,  and  handed  the  remaining  fiber, 
like  overdone  corned  beef,  to  the  beating*  engines 
of  the  pulp  mill.  A  long  row  of  cotton  bales  under 
cover  waiting  for  a  favorable  market  testified  im- 
pressively to  the  general  efficiency  of  the  manage- 
ment. 

"An*  when  you  told  me  to  pull  'em  out  and  boil 
'em,  I  thought  you  was  half  joking,"  Howard 
would  mention  every  now  and  then  with  the  glee 
of  a  boy  getting  the  point  of  a  joke  a  day  or  so 
late. 

As  I  came  through  the  paper  mill  his  schooner 
Canby  was  just  closing  her  hatches  over  a  load  of 
paper  in  rolls  for  New  York.  I  returned  to  the 
bungalow,  sat  on  my  end  of  the  veranda  smok- 
ing, meditating  on  human  probabilities,  when 
Mother  Purdue  waddled  up  from  somewhere. 
Perhaps  waddle  may  be  an  exaggeration,  but  as  I 
didn  't  especially  want  to  see  her  then,  it  so  seemed 
to  me.  She  appeared  to  be  in  an  excellent  humor 
and  I  was  wrong  in  expecting  a  dose  of  refined 
caustic.  I  offered  her  a  chair,  but  she  preferred 


FIGHTING  BYNG  91 

the  log  edge  of  the  veranda  against  a  post,  her 
feet  just  reaching  the  ground. 

"Mr.  Wood,"  she  began  rather  impressively,  "I 
wish  to  apologize  for  my  rudeness  when  you  re- 
turned that  morning.  I  was  quite  beside  myself. 
I  never  passed  such  a  night  and  I  shudder  now 
when  I  recall  it.  But  I  am  indeed  sorry  I  spoke 
the  way  I  did.  I  know  now  that  the  children  might 
have  perished  had  it  not  been  for  you  and  Mr. 
Byng,  and  with  utmost  gratitude  I  thank  you." 
Her  lips  quivered  as  she  finished. 

"I  had  little  to  do  with  it.  I  assisted  Mr. 
Byng  all  I  could."  A  billow  of  harnessed 
adipose  tissue  was  a  poor  substitute  for  my  medi- 
tations. 

"Mr.  Byng  says  it  was  all  your  work;  quite 
modest  of  him.  He  is  a  wonderful  fellow,  isn't 
he?"  this  time  facing  me. 

"Mr.  Byng  is  remarkable,"  I  agreed,  looking 
down  toward  the  mill. 

"What  are  his  antecedents?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  I  presume  he  is  of  English  stock  that  set- 


92  FIGHTING  BYNG 

tied  in  this  country  a  couple  of  hundred  years 
ago;  his  name  would  indicate  that." 

"  Being  such  friends,  you  must  have  known  him 
long?"  she  pursued. 

I  assented  without  being  specific. 

"Isn't  it  too  bad  he  has  had  no  chance  for  an 
education?" 

"I  think  that  depends  on  how  you  define  edu- 
cation. His  accomplishments  indicate  a  very  good 
education.  But  if  you  mean  veneer  that  unfits  the 
young  for  hard  knocks  and  useful  effort,  he  is 
not  educated." 

"I  really  think  you  are  right,  Mr.  Wood;  the 
young  men  of  to-day  are  poorly  equipped,  being 
interested  only  in  spending  money,  and  for  the 
worst  that  goes  with  it,"  she  lamented  acidly.  As 
I  did  not  reply  at  once  she  waddled  away  as  she 
had  come. 

Next  day  found  the  Purdues  moving  back  on 
their  yacht  preparing  to  depart,  as  their  "man" 
had  sufficiently  recovered  to  navigate  it.  When 
Papa  Purdue  came  to  express  his  gratitude  for 


FIGHTING  BYNG  93 

my  part  in  the  rescue  of  his  daughters,  a  polite 
duty,  there  were  the  same  subtle  inquiries  regard- 
ing Howard  Byng.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Potter,  who  also 
came  alone,  was  more  insistent  and  extended  in 
her  inquiries.  She  appeared  to  have  a  personal 
interest  in  Howard.  I  must  confess  that  inwardly 
I  had  no  use  for  her.  The  mercenary  spirit  stuck 
out  all  too  plainly. 

But  when  little  Norma  came  all  was  different. 
She  was  like  a  breath  of  fragrance  from  another 
world.  One  instinctively  knew  she  meant  what  she 
said.  There  were  no  studied  words  or  dollar  signs 
about  Norma. 

Howard  had  something  on  his  mind  but  waited 
until  he  had  slept  on  the  subject  once  or  twice. 
Two  days  later  he  opened  up.  A  distinct  crisis 
had  arrived — he  was  at  the  fork  of  the  road,  and 
the  doubt  as  to  which  way  to  take  was  disturbing. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  Purdues?"  he  began 
bluntly,  when  we  had  finished  our  breakfast. 

"I  saw  very  little  of  them,"  I  replied.  "They 
were  here  but  a  short  time  and  distinctly  at  a  dis- 


94  FIGHTING  BYNG 

advantage,  as  guests,  and  more  so  by  reason  of 
the  distressing  accident  to  the  young  ladies.  Did 
he  try  to  sell  you  his  land  I ' ' 

"Yes — but  he  didn't  get  far  on  that  tack.  I  did 
jes'  as  you  said  and  waited  for  him  to  do  the 
taekin'.  He  had  worked  it  out  pretty  well  before 
he  tackled  me.  He  said  I  had  the  river  north, 
east  was  swamp,  and  south  I  was  blocked.  He 
joined  me  on  the  west,  and  I  had  to  have  his  land 
to  groAv.  His  price  was  foolish.  I  almost  laughed 
in  his  face.  I  told  him  I  had  enough  now  to  last 
for  years,  and  that  the  river  at  low  tide  had  three 
feet  of  water  for  over  a  hundred  miles  up,  and  that 
there  was  stump  land  all  the  way." 

"Then  what!" 

"That  scotched  him  for  a  minute.  But  He  came 
back,  and  said  he  knew  there  was  good  water  all 
the  time  for  light  draft  boats,  and  he  could  go 
above  me  an'  build  a  plant  and  do  jes'  what  I  was 
doin'  hisself." 

"And  you  agreed?" 

"Yes,  I  told  him  the  river  was  Government 


FIGHTING  BYNG  95 

water  and  anyone  could  use  it.  I  dijjp't  tell  him 
he  couldn't  do  what  I'm  doin'  'cause  he  didn't 
know  how — I  jes'  talked  about  sumthin'  else." 

"But  you  found  him  quite  a  decent  old  chap 
even  in  trade?" 

"Yes — I  think  he  knew  when  he  came  here  that 
I  was  the  only  one  that  could  take  turpentine  and 
rosin  from  a  stump,  and  then  make  white  paper 
from  what's  left.  He  was  jes'  tryin'  me  out.  An* 
he  didn't  say  anything  till  jes'  before  he  left." 
Howard  got  up,  looked  across  the  river,  and  then 
walked  to  the  other  window,  where  he  could  see 
the  cabins,  his  cotton  field,  and  the  plant  work- 
ing full  blast. 

"He  had  changed  then?" 

"Yes — he  said  he  wanted  me  to  cum  to  New 
York  and  meet  his  son-in-law,  Mr.  Potter,  a 
crackerjack  young  feller  I'd  like.  He  said  he'd 
put  in  the  land  reasonable,  and  all  the  cash  we 
needed  to  make  it  a  big  plant,  get  another 
schooner,  and  build  a  railroad  out  to  the  Atlantic 
Coast  Line  and  jes'  make  things  hum.  He  said 


96  FIGHTING  BYNG 

we'd  have  a  big  place  in  New  York,  sell  our  stuff 
at  topnotch  prices,  and  get  supplies  cheaper." 

"That  seems  like  a  good  offer;  you  must  have 
made  quite  an  impression  on  him,"  I  ventured. 

"Is  that  what  you  think?"  he  asked,  eyeing  me 
slowly.  I  ignored  the  question. 

"Great  deal  depends  on  whether  you'll  like  the 
son-in-law,  Potter,  and  if  you  could  work  together. 
Now  one  lone  man  can't  make  much  of  a  dent  in 
the  business  world  and  it  might  be  worth  looking 
into." 

"But,  Wood,  I'm  only  a  Cracker  now,  used  to 
the  country.  I  don't  want  to  go  to  New  York, 
and  be  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret.  I've  been  there 
and  always  want  to  get  away.  The  buildings  are 
so  big,  every  one  is  in  such  a  hell  of  a  hurry.  I  'm 
actually  uneasy  there.  How  would  I  feel  goin' 
to  the  Purdues,  with  my  Cracker  talk  and  swamp 
ways  ? ' '  appealed  Byng,  with  a  note  of  regret. 

"Think  they  want  you  to  come  or  they  wouldn't 
ask  you.  New  York  people  appear  cold  and  mer- 
cenary, but  once  you  get  close,  you  find  them  hu- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  97 

man,  just  as  warm  and  hospitable  as  any.  A  large 
city  forces  them  into  a  mask  they  don't  take  off 
until  they  are  very  sure,"  I  explained. 

"Yes,  I  guess  so,  but  I  don't  understand  'em  a 
bit, ' '  he  replied  with  a  finality  that  indicated  little 
chance  of  his  going  to  New  York  soon. 

I  left  him  in  a  few  days  without  the  matter  being 
referred  to  again. 


CHAPTER  IX 

FIVE  years  went  by  before  I  again  met  Howard 
Byng.  He  was  at  the  Waldorf  in  New  York. 
After  parting  we  had  exchanged  letters  frequently 
and  I  advised  him  as  best  I  could.  He  employed 
a  college  man  to  instruct  him  and  for  two  years 
kept  away  from  New  York  and  other  large 
business  centers.  Meanwhile  his  letters  improved, 
indicating  a  great  change  for  the  better.  Evi- 
dently he  wanted  to  feel  sure  of  himself  before 
again  meeting  with  men  of  large  affairs.  Mrs. 
Potter,  seconded  by  her  mother,  had  scored  on  a 
plan  conceived  when  they  first  met  Byng — the  firm 
of  Byng  and  Potter  was  now  a  fact  and  the  busi- 
ness had  expanded  and  prospered  as  expected. 
And  more,  a  year  before  I  met  him  again,  he  had 

98 


FIGHTING  BYNG  99 

married  her  sister  Norma  and  sent  me  her  photo- 
graph. 

She  had,  as  I  predicted,  developed  into  a  beau- 
tiful woman  without  being  plagued  by  a  self -con- 
sciousness of  the  fact.  She  was  real,  a  superb 
woman  indeed,  and  Byng  was  rightfully  proud  of 
her.  The  details  of  the  happy  consummation,  cov- 
ering about  two  years,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  have 
no  doubt  they  were  very  exciting — to  the  Potter 
family.  First  of  all  a  huge  diamond  in  the  rough 
had  to  be  polished  into  a  gentleman,  and  a  money- 
maker, who  should  conserve  the  family  fortune 
and  add  to  it. 

Norma  was  carefully  educated  along  broad, 
democratic  lines  and  carefully  taught  the  true 
worth  of  the  self-seeking  contingent  who  amble 
about,  and  simper  their  way  along.  Her  mar- 
riage to  Byng  was,  necessarily,  managed  with 
astuteness,  for  at  no  time  would  anyone  have  had 
the  temerity  to  meddle  with  the  workings  of 
Howard  Byng's  will  any  more  than  that  of  a  lion. 
Undoubtedly  the  seed  of  his  great  love  was  planted 


100  FIGHTING  BYNG 

when  he  carried  her  in  his  arms,  drenched  and 
convulsive,  from  Alligator  Island.  After  his  mar- 
riage I  considered  his  status  in  life  fixed  and 
largely  dismissed  him  from  my  mind.  But  it 
wasn't  long  before  he  insisted  on  seeing  me,  say- 
ing, that,  as  his  godfather,  I  had  certain  du- 
ties. 

He  wanted  me  to  go  to  his  home,  but  as  usual  I 
balked  at  this.  I  compromised  by  taking  dinner 
at  the  hotel  with  him,  together  with  his  wife  and 
the  Potters.  Potter  proved  to  be  a  fine  fellow. 
Born  to  the  purple,  he  nevertheless  admired  the 
now  handsome,  big-hearted,  transformed  Georgia 
Cracker.  Mrs.  Potter  had  laid  down  her  fat  upon 
the  altar  of  common  sense. 

Norma  surprised  me,  her  photograph  doing  her 
an  injustice.  I  could  hardly  believe  that  the 
stately  brunette,  divinely  molded,  was  the  little 
Norma,  who,  five  years  before,  I  had  seen  limp  and 
unconscious  in  the  arms  of  Howard  Byng.  At 
that  time  she  appeared  to  be  all  legs,  arms  and  a 
shock  of  black  hair.  We  spent  a  delightful  even- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  101 

ing,  mostly  recalling  the  incident  that  had  ter- 
minated so  happily  to  all  concerned.  Norma  went 
home  with  the  Potters  and  Howard  remained  to 
talk  with  me. 

"Wood,"  he  began  with  frank  directness  as 
soon  as  we  were  settled,  "we  want  you  to  name 
your  salary  and  come  with  us,  we  need  you.  In 
a  short  time  we  will  give  you  an  interest. ' ' 

I  started  to  protest. 

"Wait  a  minute,  now,  until  I  tell  you.  I  have 
talked  it  over  with  Potter  and  he  wants  you  as 
bad  as  I  do.  Again  I  want  to  inform  you,  that 
whether  you  accept  or  not,  you  are  responsible 
for  the  fact  that  I  am  better  than  a  turpentine 
Georgia  Cracker.  Everything  I've  got  I  trace  to 
your  advice.  There's  plenty  of  room  and  I  want 
you  to  come.  This  is  no  charity  matter — you'll 
be  of  valuable  aid  to  the  business." 

I  found  it  difficult  to  reject  his  alluring  offer 
without  offending  him.  He  pressed  me  for  rea- 
sons. I  had  to  tell  him  that  I  liked  my  work,  that 
I  was  able  to  view  the  world  from  an  eminence, 


102  FIGHTING  BYNG 

my  own  egotism,  perhaps,  and  that  mere  business 
would  not  satisfy  me.  Also  that  prospects  for 
exciting  incidents  of  an  international  character 
were  good. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  tell  me  that.  If  you 
cared  for  money  you  would  have  used  the  process, 
secret  to  you  and  me.  You  could  be  rich,"  he 
commented,  clearly  disappointed.  ' '  Then  you  will 
have  to  continue  your  role  of  advisor  without  pay, 
for  I  must  have  advice  from  you,"  he  added,  re- 
suming his  cheerful  smile. 
"Only  too  glad,  Howard,  go  ahead." 
"I  have  no  fault  to  find  with  the  progress  of  my 
affairs  since  I  saw  you  last.  But  again  we  have 
arrived  where  the  road  forks.  Both  roads  invite. 
The  Georgia  Assimulating  and  Manufacturing 
plant  has  been  much  extended.  It  owns  cotton 
fields  as  far  as  you  can  see  and  plenty  of  stump 
land,  with  transportation,  and  cash  surplus  in- 
stead of  debt,  but  we  need  rail  outlet  badly.  Ex- 
isting roads  say  our  freight  is  not  sufficient  to 
support  a  branch  line,  so  the  alternative  is  to 
build  it  ourselves.  This  will  take  our  surplus  and 


FIGHTING  BYNG  103 

quite  a  hit  of  borrowed  money.  We're  making 
money,  but  lack  of  a  deep-water  harbor  hampers 
us.  You  see,  we  have  only  eight  feet  of  water  at 
flood  tide.  With  a  deep-water  harbor  we  could 
get  into  the  world's  markets  without  breaking 
bulk,  and  bring  the  roads  to  our  own  terms  on 
interior  shipments.  Our  bank  will  underwrite  the 
bonds.  They  have  a  man  who  will  take  all  of 
them." 

"What  bank  are  you  with?" 
"The  Transatlantic.    It  is  big,  and  has  treated 
us  fine,"  he  replied  confidently. 

' '  But,  you  know,  it  is  foreign  owned. ' ' 
"I  don't  know.  It  may  be,  but  that  is  of  no 
interest  to  us.  If  they  furnish  the  money  we  need 
to  finance  the  railroad  connection  at  a  decent 
rate,  and  the  necessary  amount  to  handle  the 
business  while  we  are  paying  it  off,  which  they 
will,  then  where  is  our  worry  to  come  from!  I 
don't  care  where  the  money  comes  from.  The 
point  is,  should  we  take  the  venture,  or  go  on  the 
way  we  are  now?" 

"How  much  money  will  it  require?"    Howard 


104  FIGHTING  BYNG 

fascinated  me  with  the  familiarity  of  his  subject. 
He  looked  big  enough  to  accomplish  anything 
humanly  possible. 

"Well — to  build  the  road  and  docks,  and  two 
deep-water  vessels,  will  call  for  about  a  million 
and  a  half.  We  want  to  own  every  stick  and  nail. 
We  now  have  a  half  million  surplus." 

"You  will  have  to  borrow  a  million  then?" 

"Yes — perhaps  a  little  more." 

"You  have  not  met  the  man  the  bank  will  send 
to  take  your  bonds?" 

"No — but  the  bank  is  reliable  and  will  make 
good — at  least  they  must  produce  him  before  we 
start — that's  what  their  underwriting  means," 
he  added. 

"Howard,  you  have  put  up  a  hard  problem.  I 
might  introduce  the  interrogation  point  and  mis- 
lead you.  I  don't  pretend  to  know  much  of  busi- 
ness, especially  of  big  business  like  yours — mine 
is  looking  for  deluded  men — sometimes  women — 
who  try  to  make  violations  of  the  Federal  statutes 
profitable.  All  I  can  do  is  to  give  you  my  iin- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  105 

pression,  and  what  facts  I  have  that  may  bear 
on  your  case.  Then  you  must  decide  for  your- 
self. "  He  nodded. 

"I  would  like  it  better  if  you  were  hooked  up 
with  a  straight  American  bank/'  I  continued.  "I 
mean  one  of  the  old-line  National  banks — but, 
after  all,  that  may  not  be  important.  Perhaps 
you  ought  to  let  'good  enough'  alone.  You  are 
making  more  money  now  than  you  can  possibly 
spend.  However,  I  can  understand  the  lure  of 
achievement — it's  about  all  the  real  fun  there  is 
in  living,  without  which  a  man  is  old  at  any 
stage,  and  would  be  better  off  dead  and  buried." 

" That's  it!  You  understand  perfectly — make 
the  so-called  impossibility  yield,"  he  interrupted, 
his  aggressive  nose  twitching,  his  eyes  dilating 
with  eagerness. 

"Howard,  there  are  three  crises  in  the  average 
life.  The  first  one  we  all  know  as  *  getting  started. ' 
This  usually  happens  in  the  early  twenties.  You 
passed  yours  just  after  leaving  me  on  the  wharf 
at  Savannah.  You  say  you  cried  and  wished  you 


106  FIGHTING  BYNG 

were  dead.  Another  one  comes  about  ten  years 
later.  Its  form  and  length  varies  with  the  in- 
dividual. But  for  a  time  it's  usually  a  pretty 
bad  experience.  Men  not  only  wish  they  were 
dead,  but  would  try  suicide  were  they  out-and-out 
cowards.  They  believe  they  will  be  consumed  by 
the  heat  and  enormity  of  things  over  which  they 
have  no  control.  This  period  is  not  unlike  the 
refining  process  of  iron  ore  into  good  steel,  and 
its  formation  into  a  perfect-cutting,  useful  instru- 
ment. It  is  a  process  that  is  melting  hot,  two 
thousand  degrees  and  a  blast  behind  it.  Then 
come  the  blows  to  make  the  shape ;  then  the  grind- 
stone, and  the  whet- stone  to  put  on  the  final  polish. 
There  is  another  period  in  the  late  forties  that  you 
need  not  be  concerned  about  now.  However, 
Cleveland  is  going  to  be  elected — the  first  Demo- 
cratic President  since  the  war — and  that  event 
may  disturb  things  for  a  time." 

Byng  glanced  up  searchingly.  "Go  on,"  said 
he,  abruptly. 

"I  know  you  didn't  expect  a  sermon  but  you 


FIGHTING  BYNG  107 

may  profit  by  it  now;  at  least  you  will  recall  it 
afterward,  and  with  some  relief,  if  you  follow  the 
trend  of  affairs  logically.  When  I  go  after  a 
man  I  want  to  know  his  age  the  very  first  thing. 
You  are  about  thirty  now?" 

"Yes,  just  about,"  there  was  in  his  eye  a  sus- 
picion that  I  was  raving,  but  that  didn't  keep  me 
from  finishing. 

"And  your  wife  is  some  over  twenty — your 
partner  a  little  older  than  you." 

"Yes." 

"You  might  do  well  to  put  up  the  sign,  *  safety 
first,'  though  it's  a  lying  thing  where  generally 
used.  I  advise  that  you  trim  sail  and  keep  in 
deep  water  for  a  while.  No  use  getting  excited 
at  your  age.  Let  the  situation  be  entirely  clear 
when  undertaking  big  financial  stunts.  "Wait  until 
the  new  President  is  well  seated  in  his  chair.  I 
look  for  squalls." 

"It  may  be  you  are  right — I  will  give  your  ad- 
vice serious  consideration,"  said  he,  soberly,  but 
I  felt  that  he  was  not  convinced. 


108  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"I  don't  like  to  send  you  home  with  a  wet 
blanket  around  you,  but  you  are  too  big,  and  havo 
too  much  courage  to  shrink  from  the  truth.  Be 
governed  by  foresight  as  well  as  hindsight.  Wait 
and  see  how  the  times  are  going  to  be  before  you 
touch  anything  requiring  big  borrowing.  So  long, 
boy,  I  must  be  going." 

"I  knew  you'd  tell  me  what  you  thought,"  he 
exclaimed,  wringing  my  hand  good-bye. 

I  didn't  see  Howard  Byng  for  many  years  after 
that. 


CHAPTER  X 

I  SAW  Byng's  wife  some  three  years  later.  I 
had  heard  disquieting  news  of  Byng  &  Potter,  now 
incorporated,  but  having  confidence  in  Howard's 
ability  to  pull  through  almost  anything,  I  dis- 
missed the  matter  from  my  mind,  for  I  was  im- 
mersed with  intensely  interesting  responsibilities 
of  my  own.  Eight  years'  successful  work  in  the 
Counterfeit  Division  had  laid  the  foundation.  I 
was  now  going  to  Europe  in  a  more  confidential 
capacity  even  than  ambassadors  might  enjoy! 
The  evening  before  sailing  I  was  entering  my 
hotel,  much  preoccupied,  when  I  was  plucked 
anxiously  by  the  sleeve.  It  took  more  than  a 
glance  to  recognize  Norma  Byng. 

"I  have  been  looking  for  you  a  long  time,"  she 
109 


110  FIGHTING  BYNG 

began,  suppressing  her  intense  excitement.  ' '  You 
— you — I  want  to  see  you  so  badly " 

She  actually  clung  to  me  as  I  led  her  to  a  se- 
cluded spot  in  the  ladies'  parlor.  Her  excitement 
was  unfeigned  and  I  was  anxious  to  learn  what 
had  happened  to  Howard  Byng's  beautiful  wife. 
Manifestly  she  was  in  distress.  Firm  of  step  and 
courageous,  she  was  still  comely,  but  in  severely 
plain  attire.  There  was  an  absence  of  deep  red 
in  her  lips,  but  the  upward  curves  at  the  corners 
of  her  pretty  mouth  were  there,  contradicting  the 
sadness  and  evident  weariness  of  soul  that  showed 
in  her  eyes. 

"Mr.  Wood,"  she  began,  still  struggling  for 
calmness  after  we  were  seated,  "I  have  fruitlessly 
used  every  means  to  find  you,  and  to  come  upon 
you  so  unexpectedly  quite  upsets  me.  Perhaps — 
perhaps  I  was  rude.  I  believe — I  know  you  are 
big  enough  to  understand,"  she  said,  her  eyes  now 
devouringly  aflame. 

I  must  have  looked  greatly  perplexed,  and,  be- 
fore I  could  formulate  a  reply,  she  exclaimed : 


FIGHTING  BYNG  111 

"You  are  the  one  man  Howard  trusted  implic- 
itly— don't  you  know — haven't  you  heard!" 

"No,  I  have  heard  nothing  authentic  of  him 
since  our  dinner  party  at  the  Waldorf  three  years 
ago% ' '  I  managed  to  say. 

"Oh,  most  terrible  things  have  happened  since 
then.  Will  you — have  you  time  for  me  to  tell 
you  ? ' '  she  pleaded,  her  hands  clasped  imploringly. 
"Can't  we,"  she  added,  anxiously  glancing  over  to 
a  spooning  couple  by  the  window,  "can't  we  go 
to  some  less  public  place  ? ' ' 

"It  is  time  for  dinner;  if  you  will  join  me  I 
will  find  a  place  where  we  will  not  be  disturbed. ' ' 

* '  Oh,  I  will  be  so  glad !  I  must  tell  someone  who 
will  understand  and — and  maybe  you  can  do  some- 
thing, ' '  she  added,  searching  my  eyes  with  a  quick 
glance. 

It  was  early  evening  and  I  was  able  to  get  my 
favorite  waiter  and  alcove  seat  in  the  dining- 
room. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Byng " 

"Call  me  Norma — please  do,"  she  interrupted, 


112  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"I  like  the  way  you  pronounce  it,  and  I  crave — I 
I  want  some  one  to  be  fatherly  to  me — do  you 
know,  I  have  lost  both  my  parents  in  the  last  three 
years!  I — I  am  quite  alone." 

"Well,  then,  Norma,  food  both  quiets  and  stim- 
ulates. First,  let  us  eat,  and  while  we  do,  forget 
yourself,  and  all  of  your  troubles.  Afterward  you 
can  tell  me  your  story — I  am  anxious  to  hear 
it.  While  we  dine  please  relate  some  of  the  pleas- 
ant, delightful  things,  those  for  which  you  are 
thankful,  that  happened  since  I  last  saw  you."  I 
urged  all  this  solicitously.  I  could  not  keep  my 
eyes  off  the  beautiful  woman,  beautiful  indeed, 
though  it  was  evident  she  had  been  through  some 
terrible  ordeal — the  melting  fires  which  refine, 
and  make  perfect. 

"I  do  think  your  idea  is  more  appropriate,"  she 
replied  with  a  faint  smile  at  my  evident  purpose. 
' '  It  was  like  you  to  suggest  it.  Howard  often  told 
me  you  did  things  differently.  But  isn't  it  strange 
I  was  never  asked  that  before  ? — and  how  sensible. 
Let  me  see — I  will  have  to  think.  Perhaps,  un- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  113 

gratefully,  I  have  never  tried  to  enumerate  them, 
and  I  might  have  done  so  with  pleasure  to  my- 
self. ' '  I  didn  't  interrupt,  for  she  was  smiling  now. 
"First  of  all— well,  I  should  be  truly  thankful 
that  I  have  good  health." 

"Fine!"  I  exclaimed,  "that's  worth  a  million, 
and  there 's  a  hundred  thousand  women  who  would 
pay  that  for  health  and  another  million  for  your 
wonderful  hair!" 

"Perhaps  so — then  I  have  gainful  employment 
compelling  attention  to  others '  problems  which  has 
taught  me  values  in  useful  effort,  brought  me  a 
few  friends,  uninfluenced  by  mere  money.  I 
should  have  perished  without  them,"  she  added, 
yet  inclined  to  revert. 

"That's  splendid,  go  ahead,"  I  encouraged, 
trying  to  fathom  the  nature  of  Byng's  disaster. 

"And — I  have  not  lost  faith  in  human  kind,  and 
still  believe  the  world  mostly  good." 

"That's  still  greater;  you  will  make  yourself 
happy  yet.  Nothing  beats  invoicing  our  blessings 
occasionally." 


114  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Then  you  know,  a  short  time  after  your  visit 
there  came  a  little  girl  and  the  year  that  followed 

I  could  not  have  been  happier,  but "  and  her 

lips  began  to  quiver  and  she  looked  at  me  implor- 
ingly. 

" There  you  go:  remember  only  pleasant  things 
yet,"  I  cautioned. 

"That's  so — that's  so — well,  she  was  christened 
Norma,  but  Howard  always  called  her  'Little 
Jim';  said  that  was  the  kind  of  a  name  you  would 
like.  At  the  christening  you  were  named  her  god- 
father." 

"He  honored  me "  And  recovering  from 

the  surprise  I  continued,  "Keproducing  our  kind 
is  of  the  greatest  use,  and  naturally  yields  the 
greatest  pleasure.  Of  course,  you  wrere  happy? 
Does  that  end  your  list  of  benefactions  ? ' ' 

She  struggled  hard  for  composure.  She  was 
still  delightfully  unconscious  of  her  physical 
charms. 

"That's  all  I  can  think  of  now,  unless,  perhaps, 
that  I  still  love  my  husband  so  much  that  the  lure 


FIGHTING  BYNG  115 

of  men,  to  a  lone,  and,  in  a  sense,  deposed  woman, 
is  transparent  and  childishly  laughable.  This  has 
enabled  me  to  keep  my  womanhood  as  it  should 
be,"  she  added  quietly,  a  soft  glow  spreading  over 
her  face.  I  was  mystified. 

"You  have  some  big  items  on  the  credit  side 
of  the  ledger ;  now  for  red  ink — but,  remember,  no 
tears.  You  are  brave  and  I  don't  like  to  see  a 
brave  woman  cry.  Tell  me  about  everything  as 
though  it  happened  to  another,  and  you  a  mere  wit- 
nesSo  Something  has  happened  that  was  a  part  of 
your  destiny.  You  will  come  to  look  at  it  that 
way  later." 

"Mr.  Wood,  you  are  encouraging  and  helpful. 
I  will  try  to  be  brave  but  you  will  not  think  badly 
of  me  if  I  fail — will  you!"  she  pleaded  across  the 
table,  full,  honest,  fearless,  glorious,  but  after  all, 
a  woman.  No  one  could  have  resisted  her  ap- 
peal. 

"I  have  thought  of  my  situation  so  much  I 
hardly  know  where  to  begin  to  make  the  fearful 
enormity  of  it  intelligible  to  you.  It  involves  busi- 


116  FIGHTING  BYNG 

ness  of  which  I  know  so  little  I  have  never  tried 
to  toll  it  before.  No  one  would  understand.  I 
have  no  confidants.  But  I  knew  I  would  find  you 
some  time  and  somehow  I  thought  it  would  be  such 
a  relief  to  tell  you.  I  know  you  will  understand ! ' ' 

"Begin  at  the  middle,  anywhere — I'll  under- 
stand. Take  your  time;  but  recollect,  this  hap- 
pened to  someone  else."  I  insisted,  to  keep  her 
confident  and  resolute. 

"It  appears,"  she  began  slowly,  "you  advised 
Howard  against  the  bond  issue  to  build  the  rail- 
road. He  took  a  strong  stand  against  it  at  first, 
but  father  and  Mr.  Potter  finally  wore  him  down 
and  won  him  over.  It  was  done.  This  compelled 
his  being  in  Georgia  for  almost  a  year."  I 
nodded. 

"A  Mr.  Ranrand  was  introduced  by  the  bank 
to  take  the  bonds  and  he  finally  came  into  our 
homes,  welcomed  especially  by  my  sister,  Mrs. 
Potter,  who  was  attracted  by  the  glitter  of  his 
high  position  in  the  financial  world.  He  spoke 
several  languages  and  was  what  many  would  call 


FIGHTING  BYNG  117 

handsome  and  polished.  To  me  he  was  a  male 
person  whose  sincerity  I  doubted,  but  my  sister 
bowed  low  and  endeavored  constantly  to  throw  him 
in  my  way.  I  tolerated  him,  but  soon  began  to 
look  upon  him  as  a  possible  source  of  serious 
trouble." 

"The  railroad  was  built,  I  take  it?"  I  queried. 

"The  railroad  was  built  and  cost  more  than  ex- 
pected. Howard  was  barely  at  home  again  when 
there  were  ominous  signs  in  the  business  world 
that  upset  him.  He  was  not  the  same  man.  Then 
came  fearful  and  dreadful  times.  I  shudder  when 
I  recall  them.  With  the  change  of  administration 
came  the  crashing  panic.  Once,  during  the  ne- 
gotiations with  the  bank,  he  told  me  you  had 
warned  him  against  large  borrowing.  You  were 
right.  Heavy  loans  from  the  bank  were  called 
seemingly  as  though  part  of  a  plan  to  get  the 
property.  I  believe  it  was.  Through  it  all  How- 
ard was  kind  and  affectionate,  except  when  wild, 
savage  moods  came  on.  He  would  sometimes  look 
the  way  he  did  that  morning  when  he  carried  me 


118  FIGHTING  BTNG 

away  from  that  terrible  island  in  Georgia.  In  an 
incredibly  short  time  the  bonds  were  foreclosed 
and  the  bank  took  the  plant  and  all— everything 
Howard  owned.  We  were  absolutely  penniless  and 
had  to  sacrifice  our  beautiful  home  for  ready 
funds.  I  went  to  mother.  Father  lost  everything 
also.  It  killed  him,  and  mother  soon  followed." 

I  was  shocked  at  this  news  but  silently  awaited 
her  effort  to  compose  herself. 

"Howard  went  to  Georgia.  At  least,  he  said  he 
was  going  there,"  she  continued  with  an  effort. 
"Then  the  serpent  in  this  Ramund  was  unmasked. 
He  became  boldly  insistent." 

Norma  hesitated.  I  could  see  that  the  real  crux 
of  her  story  was  at  hand.  "Yes?"  said  I,  gently. 

"Urged  by  my  sister,  I  went  to  his  hotel  on  the 
representation  that  he  could  and  would  do  some- 
thing to  enable  Howard  to  regain  control  and  fi- 
nally save  his  property — the  result  of  his  life's 
labors.  You  can  understand  how  I  wanted  to  help 
Howard.  Mr.  Ramund  said  the  hotel  parlor  was 
too  public,  and  asked  me  to  his  suite.  Obsessed 


FIGHTING  BYNG  119 

by  such  intense  desire  to  save  my  husband,  and 
having  so  little  worldly  knowledge,  I  indiscreetly 
went.  After  a  little  talk  on  the  business  matter, 
this  man  began  to  offer  protestations  of  love  for 
me,  and  told  me,  brazenly,  how  much  more  he  could 
do  for  me  than  a  bankrupt,  discredited  husband. 
Insulted,  shocked,  and  stunned  into  sheer  numb- 
ness, which  he  mistook  for  silent  consent,  he 
grasped  me  bodily,  embraced  me  and  kissed  me 
violently  before  I  could  recover.  Then  the  door 
opened  and  Howard  entered — quiet,  fierce,  deter- 
mined. It  seems  in  retrospect  a  part  of  a  play. 
With  wonderfully  polite  self-control  he,  as  though 
requesting  an  ordinary  favor,  asked  me  to  please 
run  on  home. 

"What  happened  ifter  I  left  I  never  knew. 
Fearful  of  a  great  tragedy,  and  with  a  sense  of 
injury  and  mortification,  I  walked  all  the  way.  I 
was  actually  afraid  to  go  home.  When  I  finally 
plucked  up  sufficient  courage  to  do  so,  I  found  he 
had  been  there  and  taken  little  Jim.  I  have  not 
heard  of  them  since."  It  was  some  moments  be- 


120  FIGHTING  BYNG 

fore  she  could  quiet  down,  after  her  painful  re- 
cital. 

"The  bank  is  running  the  plant  now?"  I  asked, 
turning  away  from  the  subject  she  had  voluntarily 
introduced.  I  was  through  with  it.  I  could  see 
the  villainy  and  perfidy  behind  Bamund's  action. 
I  knew  what  I  would  have  done  flrere  I  in  Howard 
Byng's  place  and  I  afterward  learned  that  he  did 
that  very  thing. 

"Yes — but  there  is  something  wrong,"  she  re- 
plied. "It  does  not  prosper.  My  father's  entire 
fortune  went  along  with  the  crash.  Mr.  Potter  re- 
turned to  a  bank  clerkship  where  he  was  when  he 
married  sister.  She  blames  me,  attributing  the 
disaster  to  my  attitude  toward  Mr.  Bamund,  raved 
about  my  senseless  scruples,  and  still  resists  all 
my  attempts  at  reconciliation.  She  apparently 
loves  only  money.  So,  you  see,  I  am  quite  alone. 
Do  you — do  you  think  of  any  possible  way  to  find 
my  husband  and  child?"  she  asked  in  whispered 
agony.  "You  know  he  took  little  Jim,  then  only  a 
year  old,  because — because — he  thought  me  unfit. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  121 

I  am  terribly  depressed  at  times  for  fear  they 
may  be  dead.  I  would  have  found  them  if  living. 
He  may  have  done  something  terrible  and  had  to 
go.  I  have  tried  every  way  within  my  meager 
means  to  find  them.  Do  you  think  you  can  help 
me?"  she  implored,  reaching  out  her  hands 
toward  me.  *  • 

"I  might,  but  I  sail  for  Europe  to-morrow.  I 
am  compelled  to  go."  My  words  sounded  brutal 
to  my  own  ears  after  such  an  appeal 

" Isn't  there — isn't  there  something  you  can 
suggest!" 

I  meditated  for  some  minutes.  Howard  Byng, 
if  not  desperate  enough  to  destroy  himself  and 
child,  would  go  back  to  the  pine  woods  of  his  birth, 
I  reasoned.  Finally  I  said,  "I  will  give  you  a  let- 
ter to  a  friend  of  mine  in  the  Excise  Department, 
who  travels  the  turpentine  country  constantly.  He 
might  get  trace  of  him.  Howard  would  return 
there  if  living." 

"That's  so.  I  never  thought  of  that  before. 
As  lowly  as  was  his  start  in  life,  he  never  ceased 


122  FIGHTING  BYNG 

loving  the  woods,"  she  recalled,  brightening. 
"How  long  will  you  be  awayf " 

Knowing  the  disappointment  the  truth  would 
bring  to  her,  I  answered  ambiguously.  "I  hardly 
know.  One  never  can  tell,  but  I  hope  not  very 
long.  Meanwhile  keep  up  a  stout  heart.  Every- 
thing straightens  out  in  time.  Keep  busy,  don't 
brood,  be  brave."  I  will  never  forget  how  for- 
lorn she  looked  as  she  bade  me  good-bye.  If  she 
had  known  I  would  be  away  for  several  years  she 
would  have  broken  down  completely.  She  felt  that 
I  could  help  her. 

I  gave  her  a  letter  to  Charlie  Haines,  and  that 
was  the  last  I  saw  of  Norma  Byng  for  eight  or 
nine  years.  Charlie  told  me  that  he  spent  three 
or  four  years  beating  every  pine  bush  in  the 
South  without  results,  and,  moreover,  that  he  had 
somehow  lost  track  of  Mrs.  Byng.  He  decided  she 
had  married  again,  as  she  was  too  attractive  to 
stay  single.  Eight  or  nine  years  work  wonderful 
changes  in  any  life.  It  appeared  to  me  that 
Charlie  might  be  right. 


CHAPTER  XI 

SEEMINGLY  some  people  never  observe  the  fact 
that  the  calendar  travels  on  a  non-stop  schedule, 
and  the  longer  we  live  the  faster  it  speeds. 

After  my  talk  with  Charlie  Haines  about  Norma 
Byng,  I  spent  another  four  years  in  Europe,  and 
by  that  time  we  were  up  to  the  catastrophe  that 
rocked  the  world  and  butchered  millions  of  peo- 
ple. 

It  caught  us  short  of  men  in  all  departments.  I 
was  given  some  odd  jobs  outside  the  regular 
schedule,  while  we  were  trying  hard  to  be  neutral, 
and  waiting  for  the  Monarch  of  Death  and  his 
cohorts  of  three-cornered,  degenerate  minds,  to 
discover  they  had  overlooked  another  big  bet  be- 
sides Belgium  and  Italy. 

Suddenly  I  drew  a  trip  to  Florida.  I  was  to 
123 


124  FIGHTING  BYNG 

attach  myself  to  the  United  States*  Court  as  an 
ostensible  necessity,  for  the  purpose  of  learning 
what  the  Boche  were  doing  toward  helping  them- 
selves to  our  cotton,  copper  and  crude  rubber  in 
the  Gulf  by  means  of  undersea  cargo  carriers,  and 
also,  if  they  were  trying  to  cash  in  on  their  mort- 
gage on  Mexico. 

One  morning  the  judge,  hard-headed  and  prac- 
tical, called  me  into  his  chambers  and  gave  me  two 
warrants  to  produce  dead  or  alive  the  body  of  a 
certain  man  in  court  to  answer  charges  of  smug- 
gling tobacco  from  Cuba,  and  violating  our  neu- 
trality. He  said  the  " Paper  case,"  which  meant 
the  affidavits,  upon  which  the  warrants  were 
based,  were  altogether  regular,  but  there  was  a 
distinctive  odor  about  them  that  indicated  "a 
nigger  in  the  woodpile."  And  that  meant  that 
if  I  went  slow,  it  was  believed  that  I  would  find 
out  something  worth  while. 

The  clerk  and  myself  studied  elementary  geog- 
raphy for  a  while,  and  found  that  the  best  we 
could  do  was  to  locate  the  defendant  by  longitude 


FIGHTING  BTNG  125 

and  latitude,  either  on  the  barren  Keys,  or  on  one 
of  the  numerous  islands  nearby.  The  affidavits 
appeared  to  be  made  by  members  of  the  firm  of 
Bulow  and  Company,  in  Key  West,  and  thither  I 
went  at  once. 

Bulow  and  Company  were  big  handlers,  whole- 
sale and  retail,  of  heavy  hardware,  ship  chand- 
lery, and  spongefishers '  supplies.  They  had  a  few 
sponge  boats  themselves,  deep-sea  vessels,  also 
docks  and  tugs.  I  saw  nothing  to  justify  the  hon- 
orable judge's  angle  on  the  case,  but  took  his  ad- 
vice and  went  slow. 

At  the  hotel  in  Key  "West  I  met  Ike  Barry,  a 
traveling  man  in  just  such  a  line. 

"Been  selling  the  Bulow  people  for  twenty-five 
years, ' '  he  informed  me.  '  *  Always  discount.  The 
manager  is  director  in  the  People 's  National.  The 
Bulows  were  German — all  dead  now.  Will  take 
you  down  and  introduce  you  to  present  managers 
— fine  people.  No — well,  I'm  going  to  be  here  a 
week  or  two  fishing — see  me  if  I  can  make  you 
happy — I  know  what  Key  West  has  for  break- 
fast. " 


126  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  was  making  no  progress  in  getting  a  line  on 
the  man  Canby  charged  in  the  warrants.  Finally 
I  changed  clothes  and  went  down  to  the  water- 
front looking  for  a  job  as  marine  engineer,  or  any- 
thing in  that  line.  It  may  have  been  an  accident 
that  I  got  on  the  Bulow  wharf  first  with  my  license, 
membership  card,  and  enough  letters  to  convince 
even  a  doubting  Thomas  that  I  was  fit  and  willing. 

I  found  Scotty  in  the  engine  room  of  a  speedy 
gasoline  craft  and  pried  his  mouth  open  with  a 
hard-luck  story.  This  boat  was  used  as  sort  of 
scout  for  trade  all  the  way  from  the  Bermudas 
and  Cuba  to  Vera  Cruz  and  New  Orleans. 

Scotty  soon  showed  his  Highland  Scotch  by 
starting  in  to  brag. 

"It  11  split  the  water  faster  than  anything  on 
the  Gulf,"  said  he,  looking  proud,  "but  I've  got  to 
give  the  Devil  his  due — there's  one  boat  down 
here  that  passes  us  at  our  best,  like  we  hadn?t  cast 
off  yet,  and  the  old  man  is  wild  about  it — or 
maybe  it's  something  else  that's  the  real  reason." 

This  was  the  first  information  I  had  received 


FIGHTING  BYNG  127 

regarding  Canby.  It  was  his  boat  that  excited 
Scotty,  and  I  soon  had  the  story  and  enough  geog- 
raphy to  locate  him. 

Scotty  walked  uptown  with  me,  and  before  part- 
ing said,  after  swearing  me  to  secrecy,  that  unless 
things  looked  better  on  the  other  side  he  was  going 
back  home  to  take  his  old  place  in  the  Royal  Navy, 
and  that  if  I  stuck  around  awhile  I  might  have  his 
job.  In  fact,  there  were  some  things  about  his  job 
he  didn't  like,  he  informed  me,  getting  more 
friendly  before  I  left  him. 

I  had  to  get  an  order  from  the  superintendent 
to  have  the  train  stop  the  next  morning  about 
midway  between  Key  West  and  the  Everglades. 
The  conductor,  a  veteran  on  the  road,  said  he  had 
never  stopped  there.  As  far  as  he  knew  it  was  a 
sort  of  a  Saturday  and  Sunday  rendezvous  for 
spongers  and  thought  that,  without  an  arsenal  on 
my  person,  I  was  taking  chances.  "Queer  fish," 
he  added,  shaking  his  head,  "but  someone  there 
knows  something  about  flowers. " 

I  wondered  what  he  meant. 


128  FIGHTING  BYNG 

He  let  me  off  at  the  open  back  door  of  a  ram- 
bling building  of  many  additions,  perhaps  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  beginning  near  the 
track,  and  ending  with  two  stories  near  the  water 
on  the  Gulf  side. 

Not  a  soul  was  in  sight  and  everything  as  still 
as  a  country  church  on  a  weekday.  I  went  through 
the  store  stocked  with  fishermen's  supplies,  en- 
countering no  signs  of  life,  until  I  emerged  at  the 
other  end  on  a  wide  veranda  with  a  double-canvas 
roof.  Here  I  saw  an  old-time  darkey  standing 
near  the  side  rail,  sharpening  an  eighteen-inch, 
murderous-looking  knife  on  a  big  whetstone  held 
in  his  palm. 

He  jerked  his  head  toward  me  and  double- 
tracked  his  face  from  ear  to  ear,  but  did  not  speak. 
Then  I  saw  a  boy  of  about  twelve,  with  a  rifle  be- 
side him,  a  hundred  feet  away,  his  bare  legs  dang- 
ling over  the  pier,  which  began  at  the  veranda  and 
extended  out  into  the  water,  terminating  at  a 
corrugated  warehouse  that  looked  like  a  daddy- 
long-legs,  in  the  retreating  tide. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  129 

The  boy  glanced  at  me,  then  riveted  his  eyes 
on  a  spot  in  the  murky  water  twenty  feet  in  front 
of  him  and  seemed  to  forget  my  presence.  The 
old  darkey  silently  continued  whetting  the  big 
knife.  There  was  something  in  the  situation  that 
I  didn't  understand.  Had  I  struck  a  crazy  house? 

But  that  straight-nosed,  clear-featured  boy,  as 
alert  as  a  sparrow,  was  not  crazy.  Faded  khaki 
pants,  puckered  above  his  knees,  and  a  sleeveless 
garment  of  the  same  material  pulled  down  over  his 
head  covered  a  plump,  well-developed  chest  and 
body,  round  and  sinuous  as  a  minnow. 

The  negro  continued  to  whet,  occasionally  try- 
ing the  edge  with  his  thumb  and  glancing  at  the 
boy,  who  continued  to  gaze  at  the  water  as  though 
hypnotized. 

I  moved  a  little  uneasily,  clearly  unable  to  un- 
derstand. I  recalled  what  the  conductor  had  said 
about  flowers  and  noticed  that  the  space  between 
the  veranda  and  high  tide,  more  than  fifty  feet, 
and  a  hundred  feet  either  side  of  the  narrow  pier 
that  passed  above  it,  was  a  most  luxuriant  flower 


130  FIGHTING  BYNG 

garden,  planted  in  artistic  figures.  The  coral 
formation  threw  an  arm  nearly  around  the  ware- 
house on  the  wharf,  enclosing  several  acres  of 
water,  protecting  it  from  the  fierce  tropical  Gulf 
storms.  A  smart-looking  motorboat  tagging  at  its 
chain  completed  the  scene. 

I  became  fascinated  and  moved  over  near  the 
edge  of  the  veranda  some  distance  from  the  negro, 
who  had  stopped  work  on  his  knife;  the  boy's 
hand  moved  cautiously  toward  the  rifle,  a  watch- 
ful glitter  in  his  eyes ;  then  raising  it  to  his  shoul- 
der, fired  at  a  spot  in  the  water  he  had  been 
watching.  Instantly  the  waters  of  the  little  bay 
were  lashed  into  a  crimson  foam.  He  had  shot  a 
bull  alligator  through  his  sleeping  eye. 

"That's  the  fellow  who  has  been  wallowing 
among  my  flowers  lately.  Don't  go  near  him  yet, 
Don ! "  cautioned  the  boy,  bounding  to  his  feet  with 
rifle  in  hand,  and  watching  his  victim  like  a  hawk. 

"He's  done  dead,  ain't  he?"  asked  the  negro, 
seeing  the  giant  saurian  floating  on  his  back,  his 
yellow  belly  turned  toward  the  sky. 


The  boy's  hand  moved  cautiously  toward  the  rifle. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  131 

' '  Maybe  not,  Don.  Wait  till  I  reach  his  heart 
through  the  flank/'  replied  the  youngster,  moving 
near  me  in  order  to  get  a  better  shot. 

The  second  aim  was  more  effective  than  the 
first,  the  monster's  tail  lashing  the  deep  water 
into  a  repulsive  shade.  He  then  turned  belly  up, 
inert ;  his  heart  had  been  pierced. 

"Now  he  is  safe!"  exclaimed  the  boy  to  the 
negro,  who  was  already  wading  out  with  the 
murderous  knife  and  a  short-handled  axe.  The 
boy  then  walked  toward  me  with  a  frank,  honest 
gaze  of  inquiry,  still  holding  the  rifle,  which  was 
fully  as  long  as  himself. 

At  that  moment  I  discovered  that  this  marks- 
man was  not  a  boy  but  a  girl! 


CHAPTER  XII 

SHOOTING  alligators  is  one  thing  in  which  I  have 
never  indulged,  and  I  watched  the  show  with  un- 
disguised wonder  and  admiration.  Discovering 
that  the  little  rifle  expert  was  a  girl  excited  me, 
and  as  she  came  closer  she  eyed  me  critically  from 
shoes  to  hat.  Then  I  observed  that  she  was  older 
than  I  first  thought. 

"I  wouldn't  want  you  to  shoot  at  me,"  I  said, 
attempting  to  put  her  at  ease.  I  could  detect  a 
sort  of  distrust  in  her  clear  gray  eyes. 

"I  never  miss  a  'gator,  if  that's  what  >you 
mean,"  said  she,  toying  with  her  rifle  and  reas- 
sured by  my  voice.  "I've  been  shooting  'gators 
all  my  life." 

"I  think  it's  wonderful;  few  men  could  do  as 
well." 

132 


FIGHTING  BYNG  133 

Still  doubting,  she  smiled  slightly  and  continued 
to  study  my  face,  my  tropical  clothes,  even  my 
shoes. 

"Mr.  Canby  is  not  about?"  I  asked  as  I  smiled 
down  upon  her. 

"No,  Daddy  went  away  before  daylight,"  and 
turning  away  to  glance  out  toward  the  Gulf  added, 
as  if  reassured,  "The  weather  is  good  and  I  don't 
know  when  to  expect  him. '  *  Then  her  innate  cour- 
tesy moved  her.  I  felt  that  if  she  raised  her  rifle 
and  shot  me  through  she  would  do  so  delicately — 
she  could  not  be  vulgar,  her  straight-chiseled  nose 
settled  that. 

"Won't  you  have  a  seat?"  she  asked,  pointing 
to  a  rustic  table  and  some  chairs  worked  out  of 
wreckage  which  stood  in  the  center  of  the  veranda. 
I  thanked  her  and  sat  down,  while  she  hung  timidly 
on  the  edge  of  a  chair  opposite,  trying  to  account 
for  my  presence. 

"Don't  you  get  lonesome  and  feel  afraid  here 
all  alone!" 

"No,  I'm  never  afraid,  and  Don  is  always  here. 


184  FIGHTING  BYNG 

At  the  end  of  the  week  the  harbor  is  full  of  boats 
coining  in  to  trade.  I  can  protect  myself.  A  long 
time  ago  my  father  taught  me  how  to  shoot  with 
a  rifle  and  a  pistol,  and  also  to  use  a  knife.  The 
knife's  for  sharks,  though." 

"Then  your  father  is  not  here  much?*'  I  ven- 
tured. 

"No — lately  he  lets  me  run  the  store,  and  he 
goes  away  to  buy  sponges,  'gators'  hides  and 
sharkskins." 

"Where  does  he  sell  his  stock?" 

"Well,  I  don't  exactly  know — sometimes  in  Key 
West,  sometimes  in  Tampa,  sometimes  in  Havana. 
He  takes  the  skins  and  hides  to  the  tannery. 
What  do  you  want  to  see  my  father  for  I ' '  she  sud- 
denly asked,  looking  straight  at  me. 

I  was  off  my  guard.  A  man's  question  would 
have  been  easy.  I  knew  that  to  make  any  progress 
I  must  satisfactorily  answer  that  question  at  once, 
and  instantly  I  thought  of  Ike  Barry. 

"I  came  to  sell  him  some  goods,"  I  replied 
calmly. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  135 

"What  kind  of  goods  do  you  sell!" 

"Hardware  and  ship  chandlery — from  New 
York,"  I  added,  so  that  she  would  not  ask  the 
name  of  the  house — as  I  wasn't  sure  what  house 
Ike  Barry  represented. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  did  not  let  him  know  you  were 
coming,  so  he  would  have  been  here.  We  do  need 
goods.  Trade  has  been  good  lately  and  we  are 
out  of  a  great  many  things,"  she  replied,  much  re- 
lieved at  being  able  to  fix  my  status.  She  contin- 
ued, "Have  you  ever  seen  our  store?  We  have 
made  it  bigger  lately  and  have  much  more  room. 
Come  in  and  I  will  show  you. ' ' 

I  saw  danger  in  this.  She  might  ask  me  prices. 
If  she  did  I  was  stumped.  But  I  walked  along 
with  her  through  the  store,  she  pointing  out  empty 
shelves  and  enumerating  articles  wanted,  showing 
a  precocious  knowledge  of  goods,  but,  continuing 
her  role  of  hostess,  talking  freely. 

"You  see,  Daddy  makes  friends  with  everyone, 
especially  the  fishermen,  and  they  come  here  in- 
stead of  going  to  Key  West  as  they  used  to.  They 


136  FIGHTING  BYNG 

say  we  sell  for  less,  and  all  on  the  Gulf  side  trade 
at  our  store.  "VVe  have  been  a  long  time  building 
up  our  business.  Daddy  is  very  proud  of  it  and 
likes  to  give  them  good  things,  just  what  they 
want,"  she  said,  with  a  nai'vette  delightfully  re- 
freshing. 

I  don't  know  why  I  stared  at  the  child  so  long. 
I  was  somehow  beginning  to  like  her.  She  inter- 
ested me,  and  I  began  to  feel  as  though  I  would 
hate  to  find  anything  wrong  with  her  father  to 
whom  she  referred  so  affectionately. 

When  we  started  back  to  the  veranda  I  asked  if 
she  had  any  cigars.  I  was  dying  for  a  smoke. 

"Our  trade  don't  smoke  cigars;  they  want  only 
smoking  and  plug  tobacco,  but  I  can  give  you  some 
out  of  Daddy's  private  box ;  he  always  keeps  them 
for  himself." 

From  a  shelf  she  handed  me  a  box  and  insisted 
on  my  taking  enough  to  last  a  while,  saying  that  it 
was  her  treat.  I  was  surprised  to  see  from  the 
factory  number  they  were  an  expensive  popular 
brand  made  in  New  York. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  137 

"Now  you  must  come  out  in  my  garden.  Daddy 
and  I  have  the  greatest  fun  with  the  flowers.  If 
I  didn't  have  them  I  would  grow  very  lonesome. 
They  are  my  friends  and  are  just  like  nice  people ; 
they  talk  to  me,"  she  went  on,  now  entirely  free 
from  restraint.  Her  flowers  were  really  more 
wonderful  than  they  seemed  at  first. 

Along  the  high-tide  mark  was  a  trimmed  hedge 
of  stunted  mangrove  trees  with  their  ariel  prop 
roots  carefully  trained  into  a  fence;  next  to  that 
was  a  row  of  most  beautiful  water  lilies,  seem- 
ingly ever  blooming,  as  white  as  the  soul  of  the 
girl  who  pointed  them  out  with  so  much  pride  and 

joy. 

"You  see,"  she  explained  with  artless  simplic- 
ity, "one  time  our  garden  was  nothing  but  jagged 
rocks  and  coral  that  grows  to  look  like  flowers. 
Don  had  to  carry  mud  out  of  the  water  to  make 
soil  before  we  could  do  any  planting.  That  is  why 
I  wanted  to  get  that  'gator ;  he  wallows  them  down 
and  abuses  them,  and  Daddy  says  that  every 
'gator's  hide  I  get  will  keep  me  in  school  for  a 


138  FIGHTING  BYNG 

month,  and,  you  see,  before  long  I'm  going  away 
up  North  to  school.  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  schools  up  there  I ' '  she  looked  up  at  me  eagerly 
for  my  answer. 

"No — I  don't  know  much  about  the  schools,  but 
I  can  easily  find  out  for  you, ' '  I  replied. 

"Oh — I  hate  to  think  of  leaving  Daddy  here 
alone,  but  he  says — I  must.  I  often  lay  in  bed  by 
the  window  where  I  can  see  the  stars,  the  North 
star,  and  wonder  if  people  I  will  meet  there  are  as 
nice  as  my  flowers  and  if  the  great  cities  are  as 
beautiful  as  the  forests  and  caves  I  see  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  when  I  dive  for  sponges. ' ' 

I  stopped  and  looked  at  her,  astonished.  Evi- 
dently she  divined  the  question  I  would  ask. 

"Oh,  yes,  ever  since  I  was  a  child  and  until 
lately  I  have  gone  with  Daddy  sponging,  and  can 
stay  down  longer  than  he  can — he  stays  longer 
than  anyone  else.  Of  late  he  won't  let  me  go.  He 
says  I  stay  down  too  long.  But  I  just  can't  help 
it,  for  I  see  such  beautiful  things  down  there,  great 
ferns  as  big  as  trees,  streets,  parks  in  so  many  col- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  139 

ors  about  which  I  can  only  dream  and  can't  de- 
scribe. I  feel  so  happy  I  don't  want  to  come  up, 
and  sometimes  he  has  to  give  me  oxygen  to  bring 
me  to.  He  is  afraid  something  will  happen  to  me 
so  he  won't  let  me  go  any  more — only  once  in  a 
while,  in  shallow  water." 

I  saw  the  smoke  of  a  train  in  the  north  and 
looked  at  my  watch. 

' '  I  am  sorry  to  leave  but  I  must  catch  this  train. 
It  will  stop  for  me." 

It  was  like  drawing  her  back  from  another 
world.  Visibly  disappointed,  she  started  toward 
the  store.  "How  did  you  get  the  train  to  stop 
here?  It  never  did  before.  The  trains  run  past 
here  as  though  they  were  afraid,"  she  said,  more 
as  audible  thought.  "Are  you  coming  back?"  she 
asked  wistfully. 

"Yes,  I  will  come  to-morrow,"  I  replied.  Then 
swung  on  the  train  and  waved  back  at  the  lonely 
little  figure  standing  beside  the  track. 

I  dropped  into  a  seat,  thoughtful  indeed.  If 
there  was  anything  wrong  with  that  little  girl,  her 


140  FIGHTING  BYNG 

father  and  his  business,  then  my  years  of  training 
had  been  wasted.  I  thought  of  what  the  judge  told 
me  when  he  gave  me  the  warrants.  On  the  way 
back  to  Key  West  I  formed  a  plan. 

In  front  of  the  hotel  in  Key  West  I  found  Ike 
Barry.  ' '  Ike,  you  sell  from  a  catalog,  don 't  you  ? ' ' 

"Yes— why?" 

"If  you  will  loan  me  your  catalog  I'll  get  an 
order  to-morrow,  and  won't  charge  you  anything 
but  some  smokes." 

Ike  was  agreeable  and  explained  the  uniform 
discount  on  the  catalog  price  as  we  drank  at  the 
soda  fountain. 

I  was  hurrying  to  my  room  to  change  back  to 
working  clothes,  when  I  saw  Scotty  of  the  night 
before,  in  the  lobby.  He  was  in  good  clothes  and 
bad  liquor,  or  both.  I  tried  to  dodge  him  until  I 
could  get  back  in  working  garb  but  the  light  of 
recognition  appeared  in  the  little  eyes  under  the 
deep  shelf.  He  arose  and  stood  near  me.  I  was 
sure  of  the  liquor  then  and  it  did  not  take  long 
to  develop  the  trouble. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  141 

"I  had  half  a  slant  after  you  had  gone  last 
night  that  this  was  your  lay,"  he  began,  after  we 
were  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  bar  room. 

"It's  pretty  hard  to  fool  the  Scotch, "  I  ob- 
served as  he  poured  out  Black  and  White,  and 
watched  me  fill  a  glass  with  gin  as  full  as  the  water 
glasses  beside  it.  But  he  did  not  see  me  change 
the  glasses  and  drink  the  water  instead  of  the 
liquor. 

"Scotty,  you  seem  troubled.  How  is  it  you  are 
all  dressed  up  instead  of  burning  gasoline  on  the 
blue?" 

"Think  I'm  in  bad,"  he  said,  eyeing  me  closely. 
"I've  had  me  doots,  and  your  nosing  around  set- 
tles it." 

"Scotty — you  saw  enough  last  night  to  know  I 
have  a  first-class  license  for  the  U.  S.  N.  I  have 
served,"  I  continued,  as  he  poured  out  more  Black 
and  White,  "and  can  convince  you  I  have  worked 
as  a  first-class  mechanic  in  the  German  and 
French  shipyards." 

"Think  you  did — I  know  you  did — and  all  the 


142  FIGHTING  BYNG 

time  was  using  another  tool  on  paper  that  went  to 
Washington.  But  I  believe  you  are  on  the  level 
for  all  that,  and  I  don't  mind  telling " 

"Then,  Scotty,  what's  the  use  of  being  so  tight? 
Will  you  tell  me  something?" 

"Weel — weel — maybe,"  with  a  vicious  glitter 
as  he  glanced  down  at  his  empty  glass. 

"Tell  me  how  you  know  so  well  where  this  man 
Canby's  place  is  up  on  the  Keys?"  I  asked,  order- 
ing again. 

"I  might  have  told  you  that  last  night,  but  ye 
never  asked  me,  and  that  has  a  lot  to  do  with 
me  just  now.  I  don't  like  the  way  things  are  go- 
ing with  Bulow  and  Company.  In  fact,  I'm  down- 
right suspicious,  and  I'm  ready  to  throw  up  me 
job." 

"Now  you're  getting  down  to  it.  What  do  yon 
know  about  Canbyf " 

"You  see,  I've  been  with  this  Bulow  job  near 
five  years.  Since  the  old  man  died  and  this  mana- 
ger came  in  things  have  not  been  goin'  right. 
Some  time  ago  there  comes  a  pink-cheeked,  taller- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  143 

bellied  chap,  I  never  did  know  his  name,  or  just 
who  he  is.  The  firm  has  always  been  sore  on 
Canby,  because  he's  been  takin'  spongers'  trade 
from  them.  But  lately  there  is  somethin'  else. 
And  it's  him  you  want  to  know  about?" 

"Yes,  I  especially  want  to  know  about  him — just 
now." 

"No  one  seems  to  know  how  he  got  up  there  on 
the  bare  Keys,"  replied  Scotty.  "One  morning 
the  manager  and  our  big-waisted  pink-cheek  came 
down  to  the  dock  in  a  devil  of  a  sweat  to  get  away 
up  the  Keys  on  the  Gulf  side.  When  we  got  oppo- 
site Canby 's  he  ordered  me  to  make  the  little  bay 
and  Canby 's  wharf.  It  was  a  bad  place  to  get, 
drawing  as  much  water  as  we  did,  but  I  got  along- 
side the  little  wharf  inside  all  right  and  made 
fast. 

* '  The  two  of  them  looked  about  a  bit,  but  no  one 
was  to  be  seen.  They  walked  up  to  the  store,  went 
inside  for  a  little  while,  and  then  returned.  The 
manager  said  both  Canby  and  the  girl  were  away 
and  the  nigger  was  asleep  somewhere.  Then  they 


144  FIGHTING  BYNG 

began  looking  sharp  about  the  little  warehouse 
on  the  end  of  the  wharf.  But  it  was  shut  tight. 

"The  manager  asked  me  for  a  short  pinch  bar 
I  always  keep  and  I  handed  it  to  'beer- tub.'  He 
was  fussing  with  it  and  raised  his  left  hand 
to  hold  the  padlock  while  he  was  prying  with  his 
right  when  of  a  sudden  there  was  a  shot.  I  could 
see  it  came  from  the  second  story.  'Beer- tub' 
came  rushing  aboard  with  the  manager,  his  hand 
bleeding,  scared  stiff,  like  the  hell  of  a  coward  he 
is,  and  ordered  me  to  get  away  quick.  The  shot 
had  gone  clear  through  his  fat,  dumpy,  soft  hand 
like  a  skewer  through  a  roast  of  beef.  It's  ban- 
daged yet.  Now  what  did  he  want  there?  How 
did  he  know  the  Canby  boat,  the  fast  one  I  was 
telling  you  about,  was  at  the  Tortugas  at  exactly 
that  time?  It  was  the  damn  girl,  they  said,  who 
did  the  shooting — they  talk  of  how  she  can  split  a 
dime  with  a  pistol  every  shot  at  a  hundred  yards." 

I  yawned,  as  if  my  interest  was  at  an  end,  and, 
noting  his  drooping  eyelids,  got  up  and  walked 
around  for  a  while  until  he  could  regain  himself. 


CHAPTER  Xin 

To  watch  the  little  "reef  girl"  among  her  flow- 
ers on  the  bleached,  barren  coral  key  was  good  for 
the  eyes,  and  more  interesting  even  than  the 
startling  information  I  got  out  of  the  Scotch  engi- 
neer who  had  been  in  the  employ  of  Bulow  &  Co. 
for  five  years.  I  believed  my  find  so  important 
that  I  was  willing  to  buy  Black  and  White  as  long 
as  he  would  stand  it  or  do  anything  else  to  keep 
his  tongue  wagging,  but  this  was  not  a  hard  task. 
He  felt  injured,  his  loyalty  and  pride  were  touched 
— I  only  needed  to  rub  the  sore  spots. 

"Scotty,  have  you  been  discharged !" 

"No,  siree;  I  never  was  fired  in  me  life,"  said 
he,  stoutly,  his  natural  caution  oozing  away. 

"But  you  are  thinking  of  quitting  and  going 
back  to  the  Royal  Navy!" 

145 


146  FIGHTING  BYNG 

1 '  That  I  am.  The  Old  Highland  is  attacked,  and 
I'm  afraid  by  such  people  as  this  very  scum  that's 
paying  me  now.  I'm  going  to  chance  telling  ye. 
I  begin  to  think  there's  something  rotten  here," 
said  he  grimly,  with  the  stoic  anger  of  a  High- 
lander examining  his  weapons  before  a  melee 
chancing  his  life.  I  pushed  the  bottle  his  way 
again. 

"Scotty,  are  you  willing  to  open  up!" 

4 'Yes— try  me." 

"Well,  it's  important  for  me  to  know  the  move- 
ment and  cargo  of  all  Bulow  and  Company's  ships, 
tugs  and  launches.  Doing  that  is  a  thousand  times 
more  valuable  than  watching  steam  gauges  in  His 
Majesty's  Navy." 

A  shrewd  look  came  over  Scotty's  face.  He 
placed  a  bony  forefinger  solemnly  alongside  his 
nose  and  his  small  eyes  danced  in  anticipa- 
tion. 

"Have  you  got  a  wireless  on  your  launch?"  I 
began. 

"No." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  147 

"The  big  steamers  have?'* 

"Yes,  all  of  them." 

"Has  Bulow  and  Company  a  private  station 
anywhere  1 ' ' 

"I  think  they  must  have,  or  they  couldn't  know 
so  much  about  the  big  ships  coming  in. ' ' 

4 '  Good !  Now,  Scotty,  I  'm  going  up  to  the  Keys 
in  the  morning,  and  I'll  be  down  on  the  dock  to- 
morrow night  looking  for  work  again.  Stick  to 
your  job  and  see  what  you  can  tuck  in  behind 
those  lamps  betimes,"  I  said,  edging  out  of  the 
side  door.  I  felt  pretty  sure  of  Scotty.  My  last 
glance  into  his  eyes  reassured  me. 

With  Ike  Barry's  catalog,  as  big  as  an  un- 
abridged, the  train  stopped  again  at  Canby's  the 
next  morning  to  let  me  off. 

The  little  girl,  evidently  expecting  me,  smiled 
from  behind  a  bank  of  geraniums — a  natural, 
honest,  sweet  smile.  Her  face,  framed  by  the 
flowers,  I  will  remember  forever. 

"You  see  I  am  here  as  I  promised,"  said  I,  sa- 
luting, and  went  down  from  the  veranda  to  her 


148  FIGHTING  BYNG 

among  the  flowers.  She  seemed  delighted  and 
held  out  her  dainty  hand. 

"I  knew  you  would  come! — and  I  told  Daddy," 
she  exclaimed.  "He  had  to  leave  in  the  night 
again,  but  he  told  me  to  order  everything  we 
needed  and  give  you  the  money,"  she  said  simply, 
with  almost  a  sad  look  replacing  her  smile  of  wel- 
come, at  the  same  time  watching  the  train  grow 
smaller  and  smaller  as  it  sped  toward  the  Ever- 
glades and  the  Northland,  as  much  a  mystery  to 
her  as  the  life  to  come.  Then  she  resumed  dig- 
ging about  the  geraniums. 

"How  were  you  guided  in  laying  out  your 
flower  beds?  There  is  a  disorder  about  them  that 
finally  appeals." 

"Oh,  yes;  I  understand  what  you  mean,"  she 
replied  after  hesitation.  "Well — this  end  looks 
like  a  little  room  in  Nereid."  Her  eyes  were 
dreamy  as  she  straightened  up. 

"Nereid — Nereid "  I  encouraged,  "why, 

Nereids  are  of  the  sea.  Belong  to  Neptune.  Is 
that  why " 


FIGHTING  BYNG  149 

"Maybe  so;  Daddy  named  it  and  he  has  good 
reasons  for  everything.  He  knows  so  much.*' 

"But  you  didn't  tell  me  where  Nereid  is." 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied  absently,  as  if  arousing 
herself  from  a  dream.  "Nereid  is  in  the  water, 
— a  heavenly  place.  I  found  it  about  fifty  feet 
down.  It's  a  great,  big  cave  with  an  entrance  so 
small  that  even  after  Daddy  blasted  it  with  a 
*  terror'  I  could  only  wriggle  in." 

"What  is  a  'terror'?"  I  asked,  wondering  if  she 
was  really  dreaming  or  was  possessed  of  a  delight- 
ful talent  for  romancing. 

"That's  one  of  Daddy's  inventions  and  we  sell 
lots  of  them  to  the  spongers.  It's  a  stick  of  dyna- 
mite with  a  grabhook  on  it  so  it  can  be  fastened  to 
most  anything  and  not  wash  away.  A  wire  is  at- 
tached so  that  it  may  be  fired  from  the  boat  after 
the  spongers  come  up.  I  will  show  you  one  in- 
side. You  see,"  she  explained,  "rocks  and  coral 
down  there  are  in  the  way  of  getting  the  best 
sponges." 

"How  far  is  the  Nereid!" 


150  FIGHTING  BTNG 

"It  takes  the  Titian/'  said  she,  looking  at  the 
big  launch  at  anchor  beyond  the  warehouse, 
"  about  an  hour  to  go  there.  You  know,  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  is  much  more  beautiful  than  the 
land — the  land  around  here  anyway — it's  even 
more  beautiful  than  my  flowers.  It  has  great  val- 
leys, cliffs,  caves  and  forests,  all  kinds  of  vari- 
colored trees,  all  for  the  fish,  and  the  sponge  div- 
ers are  the  only  people  who  ever  see  them.  Daddy 
says  one  place  is  five  miles  deep.  Oh,  I  would  like 
to  go  down  there,  but  I  can't." 

"Tell  me  more  about  Nereid.  I  am  anxious  to 
know." 

4 'Oh,  yes.  After  I  could  get  in  we  got  the  most 
wonderful  sponges  and  I  would  hand  them  out  to 
Daddy.  We  went  there  for  months  and  I  was 
glad.  I  love  to  go  and  always  hated  to  leave,  for 
it  was  such  a  beautiful  place.  You  see,  I  got  so  I 
could  stay  down  longer  than  Daddy  and  the  sharks 
could  not  get  in  and  so  I  would  just  rest.  Sharks 
are  bad  here  and  we  have  to  keep  moving  every 
second  or  they  attack.  I  could  see  a  light  there, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  151 

but  it  was  not  like  the  sun.  It  made  everything 
in  the  cave  so  bright  and  I  could  hear  music  at 
times  that  made  me  dream.  It  was  heavenly. 
There  were  gold,  green  and  other  colors  I  can't 
describe,  the  sides  and  roof  looked  like  diamonds 
and  colored  stones  I  never  saw  before.  The  long 
halls  and  rooms  farther  back  I  was  unable  to 
enter." 

"Your  father  was  never  able  to  get  into  Ne- 
reid !" 

"No;  that's  why  he  won't  let  me  go  any  more. 
I  would  stay  so  long  he  would  have  to  give  me 
oxygen  to  bring  me  to.  Then  the  beautiful  things 
and  music  would  become  plainer  and  I  hoped  I 
never  would  come  out.  I  would  imagine  I  was  in 
the  North  country  about  which  Daddy  tells  me, 
where  you  live,  where  everyone  hears  sweet  music, 
thousands  of  voices  singing,  a  long  way  off  but 
plainly.  I — I  thought  my  mother  was  among 
them.  I  imagined  I  saw  rows  of  wonderful  books, 
and  pretty  pictures,  beautiful  women,  and  grand- 
looking  men  all  dressed  up  who  knew  everything 


152  FIGHTING  EYNG 

— isn't  that  the  way  things  are  in  great  cities, 
with  fine  houses,  tall  buildings  that  reach  the  sky, 
and  beautiful  parks?" 

This  question  was  asked  pleadingly,  revealing 
a  deep  longing  for  the  big  world  outside,  a  world 
of  mystery  to  her,  "but  maybe  it  was  only  a 
dream,"  she  added,  with  a  plaintive  little  sigh. 

"Yes,  the  world  is  full  of  good  men  and  women 
and  beautiful  things,  if  we  see  them  rightly,"  I 
replied,  as  I  walked  beside  her  to  the  steps  of  the 
veranda,  marveling  at  her  simplicity.  "I  think 
you  must  have  a  wonderful  father,"  I  concluded, 
as  we  went  up  the  steps. 

"Oh,  he  is  indeed;  we  talk  so  much  about  every- 
thing and  especially  about  the  time  I  must  leave 
him  and  go  to  school.  I  will  be  so  lonesome  for 
him — I  do  so  love  my  Daddy.  But  if  you  are  to 
get  that  train,  the  same  as  yesterday,  I  will  have 
to  hurry,  as  there  are  a  lot  of  things  we  need  to 
order." 

* '  Why  does  your  father  go  away  so  early  ?  Does 
he  do  that  every  day!"  I  asked,  getting  Ike  Bar- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  153 

ry's  catalog  and  opening  it  on  the  veranda 
table. 

"Yes,  about.  You  see,  several  years  ago  he  had 
an  accident.  A  shark  charged  him  just  as  he  was 
coming  up,  tired,  to  rest  a  moment.  I  saw  the 
shark  just  in  time,  dived  and  ripped  him  open 
with  my  knife  but  he  got  Daddy's  knee  in  his 
mouth,  anyhow.  It  was  so  stiff  he  couldn't  swim 
much  and  he  wouldn't  let  me  go  dowTi  alone.  So 
we  added  to  the  store  and  got  more  goods.  Then 
Daddy  persuaded  all  the  sponge  men  to  fish  for 
sharks  and  porpoise,  and  shoot  'gators,  the  hides 
and  skins  being  worth  so  much  more  now.  Then, 
instead  of  selling  them  green,  he  started  a  place 
away  up  the  country  in  the  woods,  where  he  tans 
and  then  sells  the  leather.  Then  he  buys  sponges 
and  sells  them,  too.  That's  what  keeps  him  so 
busy.  I  will  show  you  some  of  the  leather  down 
in  the  warehouse  when  we  're  through.  I  '11  go  and 
get  the  list  of  goods  Daddy  and  I  made  out  last 
night."  - 

I  was  puzzled  indeed.    This  child  was  frankness 


154  FIGHTING  BYNG 

itself.  She,  very  likely,  talked  and  thought  in  the 
same  terms  as  her  father,  from  long  and  constant 
companionship.  There  was  no  evidence  of  any- 
thing to  conceal.  I  felt  sure  he  was  not  smug- 
gling or  in  contraband  trade.  As  I  walked  about 
the  veranda,  waiting  for  her,  I  noticed  for  the  first 
time  what  appeared  to  be  a  very  old  and  battered 
wreck,  barely  visible,  lying  behind  the  coral  reef 
that  protected  the  little  harbor. 

"You  have  had  a  wreck  here,  I  see?"  I  observed 
enquiringly,  as  she  returned  with  the  list. 

"Oh,  yes.  That's  been  there  longer  than  I  can 
remember.  We  have  some  awful  hurricanes  at 
times  coming  in  from  the  Gulf,  and  as  they  come 
up  so  quickly  the  spongers  get  caught  once  in  a 
while,"  she  replied,  taking  a  chair  opposite  me  at 
the  table,  ready  to  read  her  list.  t '  That 's  why  we 
need  such  fast  boats — to  race  for  shelter.  My 
boat,  the  Titian,  is  very  swift.  I  can  even  pass  the 
Sprite,  Daddy's  big,  new  boat.  You  see,  he  gave 
me  the  Titian  when  he  got  the  Sprite.  The  Sprite 
is  much  bigger,  but  I  can  beat  it,"  she  chatted, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  155 

laughingly   recalling   the   fun  they  had   racing. 

I  started  at  the  first  page  of  Ike's  catalog,  and 
ended  up  at  the  last.  The  little  thing  gave  me  a 
long  order,  I  was  afraid  too  much,  amounting  to 
more  than  they  would  be  able  to  pay.  But  I  was 
mistaken.  When  through  she  asked  me  to  tell  her 
how  much  it  was.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  total 
it  for  it  was  new  to  me.  I  told  her  it  was 
over  four  thousand  dollars,  watching  for  a  big 
surprise. 

Not  so.  She  staggered  me.  She  got  pen  and  ink 
and  made  out  the  check  Canby  had  signed  and  gave 
it  to  me,  also  shipping  directions;  when  I  looked 
at  the  check  it  was  on  one  of  the  very  large  banks 
in  downtown  New  York. 

But  my  hardest  work  was  to  come.  I  wanted 
a  peep  in  the  warehouse,  that  interested  Bulow 
and  Company  so  much,  and  was  afraid  she  would 
forget  her  promise  to  show  me  the  sharkskin 
leather.  But  she  didn't.  She  got  a  key  from  the 
store  and  as  we  walked  down  the  wharf  she  talked 
ef  the  North,  and  how  she  longed  to  go  to  school, 


156  FIGHTING  BYNG 

every  time  coming  back  to  the  fact  that  she  hated 
to  leave  Daddy. 

Once  in  the  warehouse,  I  discovered  it  was  much 
larger  than  it  appeared  from  outside.  What  I 
saw  amazed  me.  Sharkskins,  tanned  as  white  as 
snow  and  soft  as  fine  kid,  were  piled,  with  various 
sizes  together,  higher  than  my  head ;  porpoise,  as 
thick  as  elephant 's  hide,  were  stacked  to  the  cross 
beams.  Tanned  alligator  hides,  arranged  also  in 
sizes,  filled  half  the  warehouse.  There  must  have 
been  tens  of  thousands  of  dollars'  worth.  Keenly 
delighted  at  her  father's  achievements,  she  told  me 
about  each  kind  and  for  what  purpose  they  were 
used. 

In  one  corner  were  a  lot  of  tanned  sharkskins 
individually  rolled  and  bound  securely  with  sisal 
cords.  They  seemed  extra  heavy  as  they  laid  there 
in  a  big  pile.  I  passed  my  hand  over  them.  Evi- 
dently they  were  wrapping  something  very  heavy, 
ingots  of  lead  or  copper. 

"That's  the  way  he  ties  them  up  for  shipping 
so  they  won't  take  much  room,"  she  volunteered, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  157 

noting  my  interest,  and  I  wondered  if  she  was  as 
innocent  as  she  seemed  of  their  contents. 

"Do  you  feel  safe  with  such  valuables  around! 
This  warehouse  is  only  corrugated  iron,"  I  sug- 
gested. My  intention  was  to  lead  up  to  the  visit 
of  the  Bulow  boat,  and  the  subsequent  shooting. 

"Well" — she  hesitated  as  though  recalling  a 
discussion  with  her  father — "the  fishermen  are  all 
honest.  As  rough  as  they  are,  they  would  not 
take  a  pin.  We  have  never  been  bothered  at  all, 
except  once — just  lately." 

I  encouraged  her  by  arching  my  brows  inquir- 
ingly. 

"One  morning  I  was  in  my  room  that  faces  this 
way,  cleaning  my  rifle.  Don  was  over  on  the  other 
side  of  the  reef  skinning  a  'gator  I  had  just  shot, 
when  I  noticed  a  big  cutter  swing  up  with  three 
men.  Two  got  out  and  came  in  the  store.  I  was 
going  down  at  first,  but  somehow  I  stayed  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs  and  listened.  They  talked  aw- 
fully rough,  and  at  the  same  time  were  looking 
all  over  the  place.  They  went  out  to  the  ware- 


158  FIGHTING  BYNG 

house  and  the  fat  man  tried  to  pry  off  the  pad- 
lock, and  kept  on  trying.  I  didn't  want  to  hurt 
him,  but  he  had  no  right  to  break  in,  so  I  shot 
him  through  the  hand.  I  hoped  I  had  just  fright- 
ened him,  but  blood  spots  were  found  on  the 
wharf  after  they  got  in  their  boat  to  go  away. 
Father  said  I  did  just  right, "  she  ended,  in  a 
dubious  tone. 

I  now  saw  the  train  coming,  and  had  to  hurry, 
telling  her  I  hoped  to  see  her  again.  As  I  swung 
on  board  she  stood  watching  and  waving  her  hand 
with  a  longing,  wistful  expression. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BIDING  back  to  Key  West  I  run  over  in  my  mind 
all  that  little  girl  had  said,  even  those  matters  to 
which  she  vaguely  referred.  Something  about  her 
face  and  manner  had  made  a  deep  impression 
on  me.  I  felt  I  wanted  to  help  this  wonderful 
little  flower  girl,  blooming  out  of  the  bare  reefs 
of  the  Keys,  having  the  appearance  of  the  serrated 
edges  of  an  immense  alligator  tail  extending  out 
of  the  Everglades  into  the  Straits  of  Florida. 
There  was  always  the  possibility,  it  seemed  to  me, 
of  its  moving  suddenly  any  time,  throwing  Key 
West  and  all  the  rest  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
or  over  into  the  Bermudas. 

Ike  Barry,  of  the  big  heart,  was  astonished 
at  my  good  day's  work  for  him,  and  wanted  to 

159 


160  FIGHTING  BYNG 

reciprocate.  I  told  him  to  hustle  the  goods  on 
promptly  and  that  would  be  enough  for  my  time 
and  trouble.  Then  I  inquired: 

"Who  is  the  pink-cheeked,  deep-waisted  Teuton 
individual — the  comparatively  new  addition — is 
he  part  of  the  mystery  about  Bulow  and  Com- 
pany?" I  asked  casually. 

"Mystery  is  right!"  he  replied  softly.  "I 
don't  know  for  sure.  Wasn't  much  interested,  in 
fact.  I  think  it's  like  this.  When  old  Bulow  died 
the  business  was  incorporated  by  the  heirs,  and 
then  this  fellow  shows  up  with  a  big  say,  execu- 
tively. The  manager  jumps  when  he  sneezes. 
The  change  didn't  affect  their  credit  and  that's 
all  that  interests  me.  However,  I  can  find  out 
easily  enough,  and  will  let  you  ]mow." 

"Do  that,  Ike,  and  I  will  call  it  square  for  get- 
ting you  a  new  customer,"  but  that  night  I  found 
a  hundred  good  Havanas  in  my  room.  Afterward 
I  put  on  working  clothes  and  went  down  to  the 
dock  to  find  Scotty.  He  was  working  on  his 
engine,  the  cylinder  heads  off,  getting  ready  for  a 


FIGHTING  BYNG  161 

big  run  the  next  day.  I  fell  to  and  helped  him, 
enabling  me  to  better  examine  the  cutter — and 
talk  with  him.  Scotty  was  covered  with  sweat, 
grease  and  indignation. 

"There's  something  coming  off  to-morrow,  and 
it  beats  hell  that  I  can't  find  out  just  what  it  is. 
This  boat  goes  out  to-morrow  and  I  don 't  go  with 
it,  for  the  first  time.  A  greasy  piece  of  German 
cheese  from  one  of  the  big  steamers  is  going  to 
run  her  so  what  in  the  devil  do  you  suppose  they 
are  up  to?"  he  asked,  wrathful  and  caustic. 

I  looked  surprised  and  glanced  about. 

"No,  they're  gone  now  but  they've  been  work- 
ing on  her  most  all  day.  Do  you  see  that  plate 
bolted  to  the  deck  aft?  They  think  they're  fool- 
ing me,  but  that  is  a  base  for  mounting  a  five-inch 
gun.  They  put  that  in  place  to-day.  Now,  why  do 
they  want  a  gun  on  this  craft?  And  rifles  were 
brought  aboard.  They're  here  now;  want  to  see 
'em?" 

"All  the  English  and  American  cargo  and  pas- 
senger ships  are  mounting  guns  for  defense  now," 


162  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  suggested,  but  he  shook  his  head  negatively. 

"This  is  no  cargo  boat.  She's  less  than  a  hun- 
dred feet  over  all.  We  only  take  a  little  freight 
to  fishermen  at  the  Bermudas  and  bring  in  hides 
and  sponges.  We  don't  go  where  there's  sub- 
marines. No — there's  something  else  and  I  be- 
lieve it  has  a  lot  to  do  with  this  man  Canby. 
They're  bitter  against  him.  The  manager  and 
that  tub  of  tallow,  with  his  left  hand  still  in 
bandage,  was  aboard  this  afternoon.  I  couldn't 
hear  all  they  said  and  they  talked  German,  which 
I  don't  understand  much.  I  did  hear  Canby 's 
name  and  hear  'em  swear.  I  tell  you  they  are  up 
to  some  deviltry." 

We  adjusted  the  gasket,  replaced  the  heavy 
cylinder  head,  and  began  bolting  it  down,  both 
silent  for  some  minutes. 

"Scotty,  what  else  is  it  that  makes  you  think 
there  is  something  wrong  in  the  wind!"  I  asked, 
thinking  hard  as  we  worked. 

"Well,  why  don't  I  go  as  usual?  Why  do  they 
put  a  Boche  in  my  place  and  order  me  to  look 


FIGHTING  BYNG  163 

after  repairs  on  the  ocean  tug!  And  why  do  they 
want  a  five-pound  gun  and  rifles?  They're  going 
to  call  at  the  Tortugas  and  then  cross  the  Gulf — 
to  Galveston  or  New  Orleans.  There's  no  sub- 
marine there.  The  fat  party  and  two  or  three 
others  are  going.  The  cabins  were  fixed  up  to-day 
and  a  new  cook  is  shipped. " 

"You  couldn't  hear  what  they  said  about 
Canby?" 

"No,  but  I'm  sure  they  are  watching  him;  they 
know  what  he  does  every  day.  He's  very  slick 
and  either  knows  too  much  for  'em  or  is  beating 
them  to  something.  And  'beer- tub'  is  a  muckle 
sore  about  having  his  hand  punctured." 

All  the  unanswered  questions  Scotty  asked 
struck  me  between  the  eyes  at  once.  What  did 
the  manager  and  an  executive  of  Bulow  and  Com- 
pany want  to  see  in  Canby's  warehouse!  Was  it 
the  beautiful  leather,  or  something  else  for  which 
they  were  willing  to  "break  and  enter" — commit- 
ting a  felony — to  see?  Why  were  they  mounting 
cannon  and  taking  on  rifles  if  their  object  was 


164  FIGHTING  BYNG 

lawful  and  peaceful?  And  why  did  they  want  a 
crew  strictly  Boche?  Scotty  noticed  my  silence 
and  looked  over  anxiously. 

" Scotty,"  I  asked  quietly,  "do  you  know  that, 
outside  of  gold  and  a  conscience,  the  Boche  needs 
copper,  rubber  and  cotton,  in  the  order  named, 
more  than  anything  else!" 

"That  they  do." 

"  Think  it  over.  Copper  from  Mexico,  or  any 
Gulf  port  in  the  States.  The  same  of  cotton,  and 
the  biggest  rubber  port,  Campeechy,  across  the 
straits.  It  is  possible  you  have  overlooked  or 
forgotten  something.  Has  any  of  Bulow's  ships, 
tugs  or  barges  handled  anything  like  that!  And 
that,  just  now,  might  mean  a  Dutchman 's  one  per 
cent,  besides  loyalty  to  the  murder  trust,  in  get- 
ting that  kind  of  merchandise  into  Germany 
through  Sweden?"  We  both  worked  swiftly  as 
we  talked,  running  down  the  nuts  on  the  cylinder- 
head  studs. 

Scotty,  under  his  breath,  began  heaping  curses 
on  himself  as  a  bonehead,  and  tried  to  take  it  out 


FIGHTING  BYNG  165 

on  the  wrench  he  was  using.      I  waited  till  he 
subsided. 

"Scotty,  you  know  the  Deutschland,  a  cargo 
U-boat,  has  made  a  few  trips  to  northern  ports 
and  that  a  sister  sub  they  never  mentioned  is 
known  to  have  left  for  this  side.  Is  it  possible 
Bulows  have  something  to  do  with  it!  And  that 
everything  the  Boche  fails  to  say  is  just  as  impor- 
tant as  what  he  usually  lies  about!'* 

"Yes,  but  damn  it,  man,  it  don't  come  easy  for 
me  to  go  back  on  them  that  pay  me. ' ' 

"I  know,  Scotty,  but  it  ain't  treason  to  fight  a 
German.  He  lies  just  as  easy  as  he  ruins  young 
girls,  or  mutilates  prisoners  and  wounded  men. 
Their  hearts,  throats,  teeth,  eyes  and  hands,  the 
very  marrow  of  their  bones  utter  lies  perfected 
for  fifteen  hundred  years.  Think  it  over,  Scotty," 
I  said,  wiping  my  hands.  "I  am  going  up  to  the 
wireless  station  and  will  be  back  in  about  two 
hours.'* 

"Don't  you  think  there  are  some  good  ones!" 
he  asked,  looking  injured,  evidently  shocked  by 


166  FIGHTING  BYNG 

the  memory  that  he  had  trusted  some  of  them. 

"Yes,  Scotty,  a  few  who  left  Germany  because 
they  hated  it,  but  to  be  born  and  to  grow  up  in 
Germany  adds  a  virus  to  the  blood  that  is  bad.  It 
can  be  neutralized  about  as  easy  as  black  can  be 
made  white.  You  can't  expect  to  rival  them  in 
general  crookedness  in  a  thousand  years'  prac- 
tice. They're  about  to  hand  you  something." 

He  threw  down  his  wrench  wrathfully,  wiped 
his  hands,  and  followed  me  up  on  the  dock. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  he  asked,  his 
head  hanging. 

"If  there  is  another  man  in  the  Bulow  service 
you  can  trust,  get  me  some  information,  but  mind 
what  I  have  told  you  about  trusting  a  born  Ger- 
man. They  revel  in  deceit  and  dirty,  treacherous 
lies.  When  I  get  back  I'll  tell  you  what  I  want." 
Instead  of  Scotty  going  back  to  work  I  saw  him 
go  down  the  wharf  where  the  ocean  tug  was  tied 
up,  but  I  was  not  quite  sure  he  was  convinced. 

I  went  to  the  wireless  station  and  the  informa- 
tion I  got  from  Washington  was  mainly  satisfac- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  167 

tory,  but  a  long  way  from  completing  a  more  or 
less  nebulous  theory,  pointing  to  something  big. 

Coming  back  past  the  hotel  I  found  a  note  there 
from  Ike  Barry.  It  read : 

"The  big  money  in  Bulow  is  supplied  by  the 
Transatlantic  Banking  Company,  New  York.  The 
fat  party  represents  them." 

When  I  got  back  to  the  dock  Scotty  was  working 
listlessly.  Didn't  seem  to  care  if  he  never  got  the 
cutters  ready  to  go  out,  and  looked  thoroughly 
disgusted. 

"What  have* you  dug  up,  Scotty ?"  I  knew  I 
had  him.  My  appeal  had  sunk  in. 

"Not  a  blessed  thing.  I  thought  Jim  Wheeler, 
the  assistant  engineer  on  the  tug,  could  tell  me 
something,  but  he's  gone.  The  crew's  all  sauer- 
kraut now.  I  'm  sure  Wheeler  is  on  the  level. ' ' 

"Well,  drop  that  now  and  pay  close  attention. 
I  have  a  plan.  It's  a  big  bet,  but  I  am  going  to 
make  it  if  you  will  help.  When  does  this  cutter 
leave  in  the  morning?" 

"Eight  o'clock." 


168  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"And  how  long  will  it  take  to  run  to  Tortugas f ' ' 
"She  can  do  it  in  two  hours  easy." 
"That  will  bring  her  there  at  ten.    Scotty,  she 
must  not  get  there  till  twelve,  or  even  later.    I 
know  what  they  are  doing  at  Tortugas. .  How  can 
you  fix  it!"  I  asked,  giving  him  a  strong  eye 
bracer. 

He  shrank  as  if  stung.  Scotty 's  inherited  fealty 
to  an  employer  was  touched.  It  was  one  thing  to 
talk,  but  his  nature  balked  at  acting.  He  looked 
down  at  the  cutter  as  a  lover,  then  across  to  the 
ocean  tug  that  had  replaced  all  hands  with  Ger- 
man born.  His  eyes  finally  came  back  fighting 
and  his  hands  closed  vise-like,  struggling  with 
himself.  Now  was  my  time  to  drive  in  the  nail. 
"Scotty,  there  are  some  kinds  of  fire  you  must 
meet  with  fire,  however  much  you  hate  the  job| 
This  is  one  of  those  cases.  If  I  am  right  and  can 
pull  this  off,  it  will  mean  millions  upon  millions 
for  the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  it 's  now  only  a  ques- 
tion of  days  when  we  will  be  at  war  with  Ger- 
many, too." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  169 

"Are  you  sure  of  that!" 

"Yes,  as  sure  as  hell!  Are  you  going  to  help 
me?"  I  shot  this  at  him  in  a  rasping  whisper. 

"I  didn't  say  I  wouldn't,"  he  finally  blurted, 
"but  I  don't  know  how." 

"Give  me  your  hand,"  I  said,  grabbing  that 
greasy  member  and  shaking  it  firmly.  When  a 
Scot  shakes  hands  on  a  bargain  he 's  safe. 

"Now,  Scotty,  have  you  taken  gasoline  yet?" 

"Yes." 

"How  much?" 

"Three  hundred  gallons." 

"Scotty,  don't  finish  your  job  on  that  engine 
to-night.  Let  the  new  engineer  adjust  and  time 
it  after  you  finish  in  the  morning.  Then  just 
before  you  come  off  slip  this  little  ounce  package 
in  the  gasoline  tank." 

Scotty  grinned  for  the  first  time.  "Will  that 
doit?" 

"In  about  half  an  hour  his  trouble  will  com- 
mence. It's  a  trick  I  learned  in  German  ship- 
yards." 


170  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Scotty  grinned  again. 

"They  think  they  know  it  all,  especially  about 
machinery,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  everything 
they  have  is  stolen.  It's  their  perverted,  thieving 
ego,  Scotty.  They  even  murder  more  efficiently 
than  anyone  else." 

Scotty  laughed  outright.  "I  wonder  if  they 
will  have  a  different  kind  of  hell  or  heaven?" 

I  felt  sure  of  Scotty  now,  so  I  said,  "Scotty, 
they  know  nothing  about  heaven.  About  hell, 
what  they  don't  know  now  they  will  learn  when 
America  gets  in  the  game.  This  very  case  may 
be  the  one  to  bring  us  in. ' ' 

Scotty  started  to  yell  but  I  put  my  hand  over 
his  mouth.  "Anyhow,"  he  whispered,  "I  got  one 
whoop  coming  to  me  later — eh  1 ' ' 

"You  have,  Scotty — stick  tight,  all  ears  and 
eyes,  and  no  tongue."  He  stood  grinning  after 
me  as  I  went  my  way.  "I'll  see  you  soon,"  I  said 
in  parting. 


CHAPTER  XV 

FOB  a  long  time  the  Transatlantic  Banking 
Company,  which  I  have  mentioned  on  several 
occasions,  puzzled  me.  I  wondered  if  it  was  truly 
a  big  bank,  and  why  it  should  hold  an  interest  in 
Bulow  and  Company.  My  suspicion  was  that  it 
might  figure  in  the  matter  at  hand  as  it  did  in 
Howard  Byng's  affairs  fifteen  years  previously. 

That  point  mystified  me.  It  took  a  long  time 
to  reason  it  out,  although  I  was  looking  for  the 
cloven-hoof  in  banks,  and  even  governments,  and 
I  did  believe  that  the  Kaiser  had  been  planning  a 
world  conquest  ever  since  he  tucked  France 's 
thousand  millions  into  his  wallet  and  went  away 
with  his  chest  out. 

I  did  believe  that  the  Germans  nourished  and 
171 


172  FIGHTING  BYNG 

practiced  morganatic  marriage,  the  well-spring 
of  most  all  forms  of  concubinage  and  degeneracy, 
liberally  imported  to  New  York  and  all  other 
large  cities  of  the  world — the  tap-root  of  the  social 
evil.  The  entire  German  royal  crowd  are  sexual 
degenerates.  We  allow  the  male  as  well  as  the  fe- 
male of  this  species  to  enter  respectable  residen- 
tial sections,  social  clubs,  and  churches,  there  to 
rub  elbows  and  even  kiss  with  their  scarlet  lips 
girls  and  boys,  thus  encouraging  further  acquaint- 
ance with  their  kind  of  "morality." 

We  can  see  all  that  now,  but  I,  like  millions  of 
others,  didn't  fall  for  its  enormity  until  actually 
struck  by  lightning,  so  to  speak. 

The  Kaiser's  coterie  had  started  out  to  seduce 
the  world,  and  came  with  a  clean,  pink  face.  Kul- 
tur,  music,  art,  science — frequently  stolen — a  stab 
at  literature,  and  a  big  display  of  substance — 
money — were  used  as  wedges.  They  began  as  the 
libertine  always  begins,  by  cloaking  themselves  as 
respectable.  Hell's  reward  is  ashes,  bitte/,  acrid, 
scalding  ashes,  slow  in  coming  and  sometimes  at 


FIGHTING  BYNG  173 

the  expense  of  blood  and  millions.  Adjectives, 
adverbs  and  qualifying  phrases  have  losH  their 
power  to  convey  a  conception  of  the  underground 
system  of  the  Hun. 

While  we  dislike  sermons  and  smile  sometimes 
at  our  own  moralizing,  and  hate  bristling,  preg- 
nant facts,  nevertheless  we  have  faced  a  wall  of 
them,  and  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  we  smash 
it,  thereby  letting  in  the  noonday  sun,  or  shall  walk 
cowardly  around  the  truth  to  further  plague  our- 
selves and  generations  to  come. 

I  took  the  early  train  to  Canby's  place  next 
morning,  convinced  that  Bulow  and  Company's 
cutter  was  going  out  on  an  expedition  that  meant 
harm  to  the  little  girl's  father,  whom  I  had  not 
met.  I  wondered  if  his  delightful  daughter,  whom 
I  had  learned  to  venerate,  would  allow  me  to  use  a 
motorboat  so  I  could  go  to  her  father.  I  found 
myself  thinking  of  her  as  an  "  oasis  on  a  barren 
Key."  Of  how  much  self-interest  was  concealed 
in  that  who  shall  be  the  judge?  I  mean  the  pos- 
sibility of  excitement,  lure  of  danger,  of  serving 


174  FIGHTING  BYNG 

and  making  a  record  with  the  Government  which 
signed  my  vouchers.  This  child  would  become  a 
valuable  witness.  I  recalled  what  the  old  judge 
had  said  about  the  odor  the  papers  gave  off  to 
him — white  paper  and  ink  can  give  a  terrible 
stench  to  our  sixth  sense  if  one  has  the  nostrils  to 
detect  it. 

I  walked  through  the  store  and  came  out  on  the 
big  veranda,  only  to  see  her  hurrying  in  from 
among  her  flowers.  Coal-black  Don  was  sitting 
on  the  wharf,  bareheaded. 

"Mr.  Wood,  I  knew  it  must  be  you  because  the 
train  never  stops  for  anyone  else!"  she  exclaimed, 
naively,  coming  up  and  offering  me  a  delicate  but 
firm  little  hand.  "Is  there  something  wrong! 
Are  we  going  to  get  the  goods?  Daddy  was  so 
glad  I  ordered  them  and  is  planning  on  them. 

"He  started  early  for  the  Tortugas  and  will  not 
come  back  till  late.  I  tried  to  keep  him  here,  and 
ou.  of  the  water,  but  I  can't.  I  know  he  is  diving 
again.  I  can  tell  by  his  red  eyes  when  he  returns. 
He  talks  about  doing  it  so  that  I  may  go  North 


FIGHTING  BYNG  175 

to  school,  and  makes  me  forget  how  hard  he  is 
working  by  telling  me  how  much  fun  it  is,  and  how 
he  made  a  dummy  man  for  the  sharks  to  charge 
at.  As  soon  as  they  bite  at  it  a  torpedo  goes  off 
and  kills  them.  He  says  that  long  before  he  gets 
old  he  will  really  quit,  and  we  will  be  so  happy 
together." 

"But  I  want  to  see  your  father  this  morning; 
in  fact,  it  is  important,"  I  insisted  quietly. 

"Is  it  very — very  important?" 

* '  Yes,  it  is  very  important. "  I  '11  admit  I  lacked 
courage  to  tell  her  why,  for  it  seemed  a  pity  to 
disturb  her  delightful  state  of  mind. 

"I  could  take  you  out  there  in  the  Titian,  but 
my  father  would  be  displeased  if  it  were  not  some- 
thing very  important.  I  never  did  that  before," 
she  said,  coming  closer  and  eyeing  me  fearlessly. 

"Your  father  would  not  be  displeased.  He 
would  say  you  were  the  bravest  and  best  little 
girl  in  the  world."  She  had  apparently  been 
taught  to  obey  and  never  thought  to  ask  why  I 
wanted  to  see  him. 


176  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Oh,  I  will  gladly  go.  I  love  the  water  and  the 
Titian  is  so  fast  and  seems  to  love  it,  too,'*  and 
with  no  more  ado  she  called  to  Don  to  bring  the 
Titian  alongside  the  wharf  and  take  off  the 
cover. 

The  negro  slid  off,  turtlelike,  into  the  ebb  tide 
and  waded  out  to  the  boat,  which  he  soon  made 
ready  for  the  trip. 

The  girl  felt  for  her  shark  knife,  to  be  sure  it 
was  there,  and  went  into  the  store  and  got  her 
rifle.  "Daddy  says  for  me  never  to  go  out  without 
a  rifle  and  a  shark  knife,  as  I  may  need  them 
any  time,"  she  explained  as  I  looked  on  wonder- 
ingly. 

"He  says,  with  a  shark  knife,  rifle,  some  'ter- 
rors,* an  oxygen  tank  and  a  good  boat,  there  is 
little  danger, ' '  she  volunteered,  somehow  thinking 
it  necessary  to  reassure  me  as  we  walked  to  the 
power  boat  now  ready  for  us. 

The  boat  evidenced  a  feminine  touch.  Painted, 
varnished,  brass  shining  spick  and  span,  as  would 
the  engine  room  of  an  ocean  liner.  Perhaps 


FIGHTING  BYNG  177 

thirty-five  feet  over  all  without  a  cabin,  though 
there  were  bunks  for  two  in  the  bow  ahead  of 
the  steering  wheel  protected  from  the  weather 
by  a  cowl  over  which  the  little  girl  could  just  see 
when  standing.  The  shining,  six-cylinder  motor, 
with  up-to-date  starter  and  reverse  clutch,  was  in 
the  center  at  the  bottom  of  an  open  cockpit  extend- 
ing clear  astern,  surrounded  by  seats  under  which 
was  closed  storage  space. 

"You  see,"  she  said,  placing  the  rifle  in  a  con- 
venient leather  holster  under  which  hung  binocu- 
lars, "we  used  this  boat  to  sponge  from  for  a  long 
time,  but  since  Daddy  got  the  Sprite  and  gave  the 
Titian  to  me  I  have  changed  it  some — and  painted 
it  up  to  suit  myself,"  she  added,  as  the  motor 
sprang  into  life  at  her  touch.  The  cutter  moved 
instantly  toward  the  entrance  of  the  little  bay  and 
out  on  the  Gulf  into  a  slight  head  wind. 

"Better  come  up  here  under  the  cowl,  for  she 
throws  a  spray  after  she  gets  full  headway,  even 
if  there  is  no  sea,"  she  warned,  not  moving  her 
eyes  from  her  steering  course  and  glancing  occa- 


178  FIGHTING   BYNG 

sionally  at  the  compass  in  the  miniature  binnacle. 

I  took  a  seat  on  the  side  opposite  her,  protected 
from  the  spray  as  the  Titian  eagerly  reached 
ahead.  The  craft  seemed  vitalized  by  her  pres- 
ence, and  sped  like  the  wind  over  the  long  swells 
now  coming  head-on  from  somewhere  out  in  the 
great  Gulf. 

She  charmed  me,  standing  there  at  the  wheel,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  cockpit,  receiving  the 
spray  on  her  boyishly  cropped  hair — a  baptismal 
glory.  She  was  a  picture  with  her  perfectly 
shaped,  natural  feet,  plump  but  sinuous  legs  bare 
to  the  knees,  brown  arms,  remarkable  chest,  chis- 
eled nose  and  chin,  and  a  wonderfully  calm, 
seraphic  face,  delighted  with  the  exhilaration  of 
motion  and  speed.  Her  great  thought  was  that 
she  was  performing  some  big  service  for  the 
father  she  loved  so  much.  The  picture  will  remain 
with  me  forever. 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  get  there ?"  I  finally 
asked,  thinking  of  the  possibilities  in  Bulow  and 
Company's  movements.  My  intuition  had  flogged 


FIGHTING  BYNG  179 

me  to  suspect  certain  happenings  during  the  pre- 
vious night,  after  I  had  parted  from  Scotty.  Not- 
withstanding a  good  night's  sleep  my  suspicions 
were  even  yet  strong  within  me,  and  I  actually 
prayed  that  results  would  spare  this  child  from  a 
knowledge  of  the  savagery  of  the  people  with 
whom  I  was  likely  to  deal. 

I  was  positive  that  harm  was  meant  to  Canby, 
when  and  where  was  the  only  question.  But  why 
did  they  want  him! — Avhy  the  warrants?  Why 
their  visit  to  his  warehouse? — and  why  their  can- 
non and  rifles,  and  other  paraphernalia  ? 

The  child  finally  seemed  to  come  out  of  a  de- 
lightful reverie.  She  glanced  back  at  the  motor, 
whose  every  valve,  spring  and  cylinder  was  hu- 
manized— biting  eagerly  in  answer  to  her  will. 

"If  Daddy  is  where  I  think  he  is  we  will  reach 
him  in  another  half  hour;  it's  only  about  twenty- 
five  miles  from  here  and  the  Titian  behaves  well. 
She  knows  she  has  a  guest  aboard, "  she  added 
with  a  smile. 

I  looked  at  my  watch.    We  would  arrive  there 


180  FIGHTING  BYNG 

a  little  after  twelve.  If  the  little  Scottish  engi- 
neer had  not  failed  we  would  be  there  in  time,  and 
then  I  could  have  another  laugh  at  my  ominous 
premonition  that  counseled  such  extreme  haste  and 
energy. 

Finally  I  saw  the  little  girl's  hand  leave  the 
wheel,  and  reach.  I  watched  her  take  from  the 
leather  pocket  a  pair  of  glasses  and  raise  them 
to  her  eyes,  meanwhile  steering  with  the  other 
hand. 

I  am  willing  to  admit  a  thrill  of  relief  when 
she  exclaimed: 

"There  he  is.  I  can  see  the  Sprite  now,  I  know 
her,  as  far  as  I  can  see — her  lines  are  so  differ- 
ent." 

I  arose  hastily  and  peered  in  the  direction  she 
indicated.  She  handed  me  the  glasses.  I  could 
but  faintly  discern  the  boat,  but  we  were  traveling 
so  fast  I  soon  made  out  a  trim  motor  boat  about 
as  long  as  the  Boche  cutter,  evidently  anchored  to 
the  leeward  of  one  of  the  straggling  coral  forma- 
tions of  the  Tortugas  group.  I  swept  the  sea,  but 


FIGHTING  BYNG  181 

at  that  moment  could  see  no  other  vessel.  She 
must  have  noted  my  relief  as  I  returned  the 
glasses. 

"I  was  sure  I  could  go  straight  to  him.  I 
haven't  missed  it  much,"  she  said,  clapping  her 
hands  delightedly.  "You  see  I  wasn't  two  points 
off  where  he  is  anchored,"  she  added,  changing 
her  course  to  bear  directly  down  upon  him,  the 
spot  now  easily  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  Antici- 
pation of  the  loving  welcome  she  would  receive 
beaming  in  her  happy  face. 

My  exultation  did  not  last  long.  I  detected 
something  moving  in  the  sea  beyond  the  island.  I 
reached  for  the  glasses  instantly  to  assure  myself 
that  my  imagination  was  not  tricking  me.  With- 
out a  possible  doubt  the  Boche  boat  was  coming 
up  toward  Canby's  boat,  shielded  by  the  little 
island. 

Scotty's  work  had  delayed  them  some,  but  not 
quite  enough.  Heavy  forebodings  again  possessed 
me  as  I  watched  the  boat  stealthily  approaching. 
Screened  by  the  island  between  it  and  the  Canby 


182  FIGHTING  BYNG 

boat,  it  dashed  forward  at  express  speed.  The 
Sprite  was  manifestly  at  anchor  with  no  signs  of 
life  aboard.  No  doubt  Canby  was  diving  and  the 
Boche  had  selected  that  moment  in  which  to 
strike. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LIVING  this  episode  over  again,  I  labor  with  the 
inadequacy  of  any  combination  of  words  to  de- 
scribe it.  I  saw  the  Boche  boat  bearing  down  like 
the  wind  upon  the  Canby  boat — its  intended  vic- 
tim. I  was  now  positive,  and  I  exulted  in  mind 
that  I  had  Bulow  in  the  toils.  I  was  witnessing 
an  overt  act.  But  I  hoped  it  would  not  bring 
harm  to  the  child,  such  a  slight  bundle  of  charm- 
ing girlhood.  I  cannot  describe  my  feelings  as 
the  Boche  boat,  on  evil  bent,  came  swooping  down 
from  one  direction  and  we  from  another  with  no 
chance  to  arrive  there  first.  And  if  we  did  arrive 
ahead  of  them  how  could  we  contend  with  a  five- 
pound  cannon  which  I  knew  they  had  mounted 
the  day  before? 

183 


184  FIGHTING  BYNG 

The  little  girl's  face  portraying  unalloyed  joy 
suddenly  changed  to  apprehension. 

"Why,  there  is  a  big  boat  heading  directly  for 
the  Sprite.  I  wonder  what  they  want  ?  --It  is  very 
fast,  too!"  The  child  grasped  the  wheel  firmly, 
glanced  again  at  the  motor,  whfch  seemed  to  throb 
with  increased  eagerness  as  if<jfcshed  into  calmer 
waters  on  the  lee  side  of  the  island. 

"Why — why — that  looks  like  the  boat  that  came 
to  our  wharf  when  I  was  alone,  and  I  had  to  shoot 
— oh,  Mr.  Wood,  it  is  the  same!"  exclaimed  the 
girl.  "What  can  they  want! — I  can't  see 
Daddy  anywhere.  He  must  be  diving  and  may  not 
come  up  until  after  they  get  there.  I  can  see  them 
plainly  now;  there  are  several  men  on  deck,  all 
looking  at  the  Sprite!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  lit- 
tle cry  of  pain  so  foreign  to  her,  a  cry  of  the 
wounded — soul-depressing,  pleading. 

She  glanced  at  the  motor  behind  her,  as  if  to 
urge  it  on  to  greater  effort.  As  we  came  up  I 
could  see  now  wrhy  the  Sprite  was  speedy.  The 
little  girl  and  Scotty  both  had  said  she  was  very 


FIGHTING  BYNG  183 

fast.  She  was  built  like  a  scimiter,  her  graceful 
lines  showing  above  the  water,  as  she  bowed, 
queenlike,  to  the  slightly  undulating  sea,  tugging 
gently  at  her  anchor. 

We  were  now  within  half  a  mile  of  our  goal,  and 
the  Boche  boat  had  stopped  short  like  a  rearing 
pair.  They  wer?now  within  a  few  hundred  feet 
of  the  Canby  craft  and  swung  broadside,  coming 
to  a  standstill  with  reversed  engine.  This  was  in- 
stantly followed  by  a  puff  of  smoke  that  bespoke 
tragedy. 

"It  is  the  same  boat,  and  they  are  shooting  at 
the  Sprite  with  a  big  gun ! — they  are  trying  to  sink 
it ! — Daddy  must  be  diving ! — I  cannot  see  him ! — 
He  would  shoot  them  all  if  he  were  there! — Oh! 
Oh!" — and  she  beat  the  wheel  of  the  Titian  fran- 
tically with  her  delicate  hands  as  if  to  drive  it 
faster.  As  they  drew  closer  another  cannon 
shot  boomed  above  the  quiet  sea  like  a  knell  of 
death. 

At  that  instant  the  little  girl's  face  changed  to 
that  of  a  raging  woman  of  fearful  determination. 


186  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Her  eyes  burned  and  glittered,  a  wild  fierceness 
unseated  her  gentle  youth  and  femininity. 

I  don't  care  to  witness  such  fierceness  often — 
it's  terrible  to  see  in  human  beings.  The  delicate, 
innate,  refined  child  disappeared,  and  the  calm, 
stolid  determination  of  a  maddened  woman  came 
to  view.  I  shall  never  forget  this  picture — it  was 
sublime.  She  instantly  planned. 

She  steered  past  the  bow  of  the  Sprite,  scanning 
futilely  for  signs  of  her  father,  then  brought  up 
with  reversed  engine  within  fifty  feet  of  the  Boche 
boat,  and  asked  me  to  hold  steady  there.  In  an 
instant  she  had  lifted  one  of  the  seats,  grasped 
something,  and  disappeared  over  the  side  as 
smoothly  as  a  seal. 

Two  men  on  the  Boche  boat  came  to  its  bow  to 
see  what  was  going  on,  but,  being  unarmed,  I 
made  no  move,  divining  what  she  was  doing.  I 
could  hear  three  jubilant  voices;  a  shot  hole  in 
Canby's  Sprite  was  visible  just  above  the  water 
line.  They  knew  it  had  passed  out  below  on  the 
other  side.  One  of  the  men  shouted,  "She  is  sink- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  187 

ing!"  then  added,  " Better  give  her  another  shot 
to  make  sure."  Then  came  another  order  to  get 
the  rifles  ready  for  Canby  "when  he  comes  up." 
As  if  suddenly  realizing  there  might  be  danger  in 
a  launch  stopping  so  near  them,  three  or  four  men 
faced  about  to  look  us  over. 

I  recognized  among  them  at  once  the  thick  waist- 
band and  heavy  jowl  of  the  leader — and,  yes,  there 
was  the  bandaged  hand  just  as  Scotty  had  de- 
scribed. 

"What's  this?"  he  said  in  perfect  English. 
"We  can't  leave  anyone  to  tell  tales.  We'll  take 
no  chances.  Better  swing  around  and  give  this 
one  a  shot,  too — tKe  rifles  will  not  sink  her. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  he  asked  insolently, 
when  he  saw  me  trying  to  shrink  up  to  invisibility 
under  the  cowl  of  the  Titian. 

I  did  not  have  time  to  answer,  for  a  thin  hand 
grasped  the  other  side  of  the  boat  and  the  little 
girl  came  over  the  side  holding  the  ends  of  a 
double  insulated  wire.  With  the  savage  gleam  in 
her  eyes  she  then  without  hesitation  applied  the 


188  FIGHTING  BYNG 

two  ends  to  separate  poles  of  the  battery.  This 
done,  she  looked  directly  at  the  Boche  with  the 
bandaged  hand,  not  more  than  fifty  feet  away,  who 
stood  much  puzzled  by  her  appearance  from  no- 
where. 

A  fearful  explosion  immediately  followed  that 
carried  the  bow  of  the  enemy  ten  feet  in  the  air, 
falling  back  instantly  as  though  seeking  the  quick- 
est route  to  oblivion. 

This,  then,  was  the  effect  of  the  "terror"  her 
father  had  invented! 

Her  face  gave  no  sign  as  she  started 
the  motor  and  drew  alongside  the  Sprite, 
now  but  a  short  distance  away.  It  was  tak- 
ing water  in  the  cockpit  aft  as  it  gently  rolled  in 
the  sea. 

She  jumped  on  board,  went  to  the  half-inch 
down  line  over  its  side  which  she  knew  led  to  her 
father  working  below.  She  tried  it  for  weight,  as 
he  might  be  coming  up.  Not  being  reassured  by 
this,  she  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  began  filling  her 


FIGHTING  BYNG  189 

lungs.  Her  wonderful  chest  expanded  to  defor- 
mity before  she  went  over  the  side  with  the  down 
line  as  a  guide.  I  knew  she  was  bound  for  the  bot- 
tom of  the  sea  to  rescue  her  father,  and  such  ter- 
rible determination  would  get  him,  dead  or  alive. 
To  one  underneath  water  a  cannon  shot  above  is 
a  stunning  blow. 

After  she  was  over  I  watched  the  Boche  boat 
that  was  surely  sinking,  bow  down.  The  Huns 
were  all  below,  evidently  to  determine  the  extent 
of  the  damage.  Not  being  anchored,  their  wreck 
seemed  likely  to  drift  away. 

I  jumped  from  the  little  Titian  into  the  Sprite, 
to  note  the  damage  of  their  shots.  One  had  evi- 
dently missed,  but  the  other  entered  above  the 
water  line,  and  being  deflected,  passed  out  on  the 
other  side,  at  the  water  line.  I  thrust  a  piece  of 
waste  in  the  jagged  hole  and  noted  she  had  so  far 
taken  but  little  water. 

When  I  looked  again  for  the  Boches  they  were 
out  on  deck  working  frantically  over  the  single 


190  FIGHTING  BYNG 

lifeboat  and  were  swinging  it  out  on  its  davits. 
Craven  fear  had  now  replaced  the  jubilant  inso- 
lence of  a  moment  before. 

I  sprang  back  into  the  Titian  and  took  the  girl's 
rifle.  At  a  short  distance  I  am  fairly  accurate 
and  I  sent  three  bullets  through  the  bottom  of  the 
light  metal  lifeboat.  I  wanted  these  men,  they 
having  actually  comitted  a  crime  in  the  territorial 
waters  of  the  United  States.  By  getting  them 
and  their  boat  I  might  have  the  key  to  a  violation 
of  international  law. 

I  called  upon  them  to  surrender  or  I  would 
shoot  to  kill.  The  man  with  the  bandaged  hand 
and  great  paunch  was  an  easy  target.  Dazed  and 
chagrined  at  the  turn  of  things,  they  stood  for  a 
moment  in  silence.  Then  followed  lt>ud  talking 
and  swinging  of  arms,  as  if  accusing  each 
other. 

A  panic  seemed  imminent  among  the  trapped 
fiends,  three  of  them  went  below;  the  cook,  still 
clothed  in  white,  and  the  engineer  in  greasy  over- 
alls, ran  to  the  lifeboat,  shoved  it  off  into  the  sea 


He  took  her  into  his  arms,  kissing  her  passionately. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  191 

and  tumbled  and  plunged  in  after  it.  One  began 
to  row  frantically  while  the  other  railed  at  those 
left  in  the  sinking  boat.  I  did  not  need  them  so 
bad,  and  without  this  lifeboat  I  was  sure  of  the 
rest. 

Evidently  attracted  by  the  dropping  boat,  the 
remaining  three  rushed  back  on  deck,  shouting 
curses,  and  shaking  their  fists  with  rage  at 
the  two  in  the  boat  making  frantically  for  the 
coral  island. 

Their  boat,  with  bow  under,  stopped  sinking, 
evidently  held  up  by  water-tight  compartments 
amidship  and  aft.  Without  a  small  boat  or  an 
engineer,  I  felt  sure  they  were  mine,  though  I 
knew  there  were  rifles  aboard,  and  the  five-pounder 
might  be  brought  into  action  if  the  escaping  en- 
gineer was  not  the  gunner. 

As  the  three  went  below  again  I  jumped  back 
into  the  Sprite.  The  down  line  evidenced  life 
and  big  air  bubbles  coming  to  the  surface 
assured  me  that  the  little  girl,  at  least,  was 
safe.  But  the  least  neglect  in  watching  the 


192  FIGHTING  BYNG 

movements  on  the  Boche  boat  was  very  dan- 
gerous. I  knew  that  deviltry  was  certainly 
being  planned. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THOSE  few  minutes  seemed  hours.  I  was  vitally 
anxious  to  see  that  close-cropped  little  head  above 
the  water.  I  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  Sprite,  with 
rifle  in  hand,  ready  to  fire. 

I  was  conscious  that  the  down  line  slightly 
moved,  but  did  not  dare  look  too  closely.  The  tide 
was  bringing  the  Huns  a  little  closer,  and  all 
depended  upon  vigilance. 

I  was  right  in  expecting  a  rifle  barrel  to  show 
over  the  edge  of  their  boat.  It  came  cautiously  to 
view.  I  drew  down  on  the  spot,  and  the  instant 
a  hatless  head  was  raised  enough  to  aim  at  me  I 
got  it.  The  rifle  fell  back,  discharging  in  midair. 
I  knew  that  one  Boche  was  done  for.  The  rest 

193 


194  FIGHTING  BYNG 

• 

might  be  deterred  for  a  time,  but  they  were  bad 
men  in  desperate  straits.  Instantly  I  brought  an- 
other cartridge  forward.  I  knew  I  was  an  easy 
mark  standing  there  in  the  open.  However,  there 
was  no  other  attempt.  They  evidently  had 
enough.  I  glanced  at  the  down  line.  It  was  still 
moving ;  and  I  knew  there  was  life  in  the  sea  be- 
low. 

Then  I  saw  a  small  hand  grasp  the  boat's  side 
and  heard  a  long  gasp  for  air.  With  one  hand  I 
helped  her  drag  a  heavy-bearded  man  aboard,  to 
all  appearance  dead,  then  with  rifle  in  both  hands 
I  resumed  crucial  watch  of  the  Boche  boat.  I 
noticed  her  as  she  detached  a  heavy  cord  from  his 
belt,  fastening  it  deftly  to  a  cleet.  Spongers 
fasten  their  baskets  to  themselves  that  way.  I 
knew  the  little  girl,  though  painfully  struggling 
for  air,  was  working  rapidly.  The  Boches  were 
cowed  enough  for  the  time  being.  I  glanced  at 
her.  She  had  a  big  cushion  under  her  father's 
stomach,  and  was  putting  her  whole  weight  on  his 
back  and  chest  at  regular  periods. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  195 

She  soon  seemed  satisfied  and  placed  the  oxygen 
mask  upon  his  face,  after  taking  several  long 
drafts  herself,  and  she  then  continued  to  bear  her 
weight  upon  his  chest  between  breathing  inter- 
vals. She  had  told  me  that  both  she  and  her  father 
had  been  resuscitated  in  that  way  many  times, 
and  as  soon  as  she  had  regained  somewhat  normal 
breathing  she  began  murmuring  words  of  endear- 
ment, a  sort  of  an  incantation,  hypnotic  in  its 
effect. 

'  *  Daddy — Daddy,  dear,  can 't  you  hear  me  ?  You 
are  coming  to  now.  You  will  be  back  with  me  in 
a  moment.  Can 't  you  hear  me  I ' '  She  would  lean 
over  and  speak  into  his  inert  ear,  softly  at  first, 
then  pleadingly. 

In  a  moment  there  was  an  exclamation  of  joy 
that  made  my  heart  jump.  It  was  from  the  child. 
She  was  almost  hysterical,  now  that  her  father 
showed  signs  of  regaining  consciousness. 

"I  knew  you  would  come  back,  Daddy.  I  am 
here.  Don't  you  know  me?  This  is  little  Jim.  I 
came  to  get  you.  Daddy,  you  know  me  now,  don't 


196  FIGHTING  BYNG 

you?"  she  pleaded  joyfully,  her  face  lighting 
as  victory  neared,  her  movements  quick  as  a  spar- 
row. The  determined  fierceness  of  a  few  minutes 
before  I  could  hardly  comprehend. 

The  name,  "Little  Jim,"  gave  me  another  dis- 
tinct thrill.  Somehow  she  had  never  told  me  her 
name  and  I  had  never  asked.  I  was  contented  to 
know  her  as  "little  girl."  But  when  she  men- 
tioned "Little  Jim,"  evidently  a  pet  name,  as  a 
charm  to  bring  her  father  back  to  life,  the  name  of 
Canby  took  on  a  new  significance.  It  was  as 
though  a  window  in  my  memory  flew  open  as  I  re- 
called that  the  schooner  on  which  Howard  Byng 
used  to  ship  paper  to  New  York  was  named  Canby, 
and  probably  was  the  old  wreck  thrown  up  on  the 
coral  reef  just  outside  their  little  bay. 

I  could  not  tell  in  hours  what  happened  in  min- 
utes then.  At  best  I  can  give  but  a  poor  impres- 
sion of  the  fierce  intensity  of  the  situation. 

Suddenly  a  new  question  arose  in  my  mind. 
Where  did  Canby  get  those  ingots  of  lead  or  cop- 
per, wrapped  in  sharkskins?  The  fact  that  Bulow 


FIGHTING  BYNG  197 

and  Company  wanted  to  destroy  him  flashed 
through  my  mind.  That  I  had  caught  the  Huns 
"with  the  goods"  was  all  I  could  really  think  of 
then.  My  theory  was  working  out.  It  moved  me 
to  instant  action.  I  must  get  those  men — the 
bulky  man  with  a  bandaged  hand  and  the  two 
others — alive.  Stupendous  things  depended  on 
it.  Danger  meant  nothing  to  me  then. 

The  Huns  still  kept  out  of  sight,  with  no  at- 
tempt at  gunnery.  I  heard  a  deep  moan  in  the 
bottom  of  our  boat,  as  of  one  coming  out  of  an 
anesthetic,  augmented  by  the  delightful  endear- 
ments of  the  little  girl. 

"Oh,  Daddy,  I  knew  you  would  come  back. 
Don't  you  know  little  Jim  now?  I  am  here  to  take 
care  of  you.  Now  you  know  me,  don't  you?"  I 
glanced  to  see  that  he  was  on  his  back  and  she  was 
kissing  his  forehead  above  the  mask  in  frantic 
joy,  a  most  remarkable  filial  demonstration. 

"Is  your  father  out  of  danger?"  I  called  to 
her. 

"Oh,  yes — he  is  breathing  the  oxygen  regular 


198  FIGHTING  BYNG 

now  and  knows  me ;  he  will  be  all  right  soon.  Can 
I  help  you?"  she  replied  joyfully.  "He  has  been 
that  way  often.  So  have  I,  when  sponging." 

"I  must  examine  that  boat  yonder  before  it 
sinks.  I  want  some  heavy  cord." 

She  looked  about  for  a  moment  and  spied  the 
cord  she  had  taken  from  her  father 's  belt  and  tied 
to  the  cleet.  She  unfastened  it  and  began  pulling 
it  in,  but  she  could  raise  it  only  part  way.  I  took 
the  rifle  in  my  right  hand  and  assisted  her  with 
my  left.  In  a  moment  we  brought  up  an  ingot  of 
copper. 

"Daddy  must  have  used  this  to  carry  the  line 
to  the  bottom,"  said  she,  but  I  thought  of  the 
heavy  rolls  of  sharkskin  leather  in  the  warehouse. 
She  removed  the  cord  and  began  winding  it  about 
her  little  hand  into  a  hank. 

"Now,  little  Jim,  I  am  going  to  use  your  boat 
to  reach  that  wreck.  Time  is  important.  Has 
your  father  a  rifle  aboard?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied  exultingly.  "And  here  it 
is." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  199 

4 'Now,  I  know  you  are  a  dead  shot.  While  I 
start  the  motor  and  get  our  boat  over  to  the  wreck, 
keep  it  covered." 

An  anxious  glance  at  her  father  reassured  her. 
He  was  breathing  the  oxygen  regularly. 

"I  can  do  that.    Shall  I  just  scare  them?*' 

"Unless  they  come  out  with  hands  up,  instantly 
shoot  to  kill,"  I  replied  positively. 

She  brought  the  rifle  across  the  gunwale,  resting 
on  one  knee  in  the  cockpit,  her  body  tense  and 
alert.  Her  steadiness  was  inspiring.  I  knew 
then  that  the  man  I  most  wanted,  the  man  with 
the  bandaged  hand,  would  know  I  was  protected, 
for  he  had  already  tested  her  markrnanship. 

A  moan  came  from  the  reviving  father  drinking 
the  life-giving  oxygen. 

"Yes,  Daddy,  I  will  be  there  in  a  few  minutes. 
Breathe  the  oxygen  deep  and  you  will  be  up  soon, ' ' 
she  called  to  him  affectionately,  at  the  same  time 
gazing  steadily  along  the  rifle  barrel  trained  upon 
the  Boche  boat. 

"Is   there    another    'terror7  in    the    Titian?" 


200  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  asked  as  I  stepped  into  the  boat  and  pushed  off. 

"Under  the  stern  seat,"  she  replied,  without 
taking  her  face  from  the  gunstock. 

I  started  the  motor  of  the  little  boat,  swung 
around  and  came  boldly  down  upon  the  sunken 
bow  of  the  Boche  boat,  fastened  to  it,  and  took 
a  position  just  in  front  of  the  cabin.  There  was 
no  sound  of  life  inside. 

I  called  to  them  to  surrender  and  come  out  with 
hands  up  or  I  would  dynamite  the  wreck  and  send 
them  to  Hell  there  and  then. 

This  order  started  muffled  voices  inside,  but  with 
no  apparent  inclination  to  obey. 

I  repeated  the  order,  and  added,  "I  will  give 
you  just  one  minute  to  line  up  or  be  blown  up." 

This  last  information  produced  animation. 

I  looked  back  to  th^  Sprite.  Little  Jim's  eyes 
were  gleaming  down  the  rifle  barrel  like  an  aveng- 
ing angel.  The  game  was  big  and  I  was  after  it. 

The  man  of  big  girth  came  first,  having  to  wrig- 
gle his  way  out  of  the  tiny  cabin  door,  and  stood 
facing  me  with  his  hands  elevated  as  far  as  his  fat 


FIGHTING  BYNG  201 

would  allow.  Then  appeared  another  middle-aged, 
medium-sized  man,  of  a  business-like  appearance, 
who  looked  like  a  decent  person  caught  in  bad 

company. 

> 
"Where's  the  other  one?"  I  demanded. 

"He's  dead,"  instantly  replied  the  man  with 
the  bandaged  hand. 

"I  want  to  see  him,"  said  I,  far  enough  away  to 
use  the  rifle. 

"I  say  he  is  dead — inside,"  the  fat  man  replied 
in  rather  a  surly  tone. 

"Bring  him  out  where  I  can  see  him,"  I  de- 
manded, not  moving.  "You  bring  him  out,"  I 
added,  looking  at  the  thin  man. 

Frightened  and  craven,  he  let  his  arms  down, 
went  in  the  cabin.  He  returned  soon,  dragging 
out  a  body  covered  with  blood.  My  shot  must  have 
hit  him  fair. 

The  thin  man  then  took  his  stand  beside  the  fat 
one,  and  elevated  his  hands  again  without  an  or- 
der, and  both  looked  across  at  little  Jim  and  her 
deadly  rifle. 


202  FIGHTING  BTNG 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  the  pudgy  man  with 
the  bandaged  hand.  ' '  What  right  have  you  here  1 ' ' 

"An  American  citizen  arresting  a  criminal 
caught  in  the  act,"  I  said,  proceeding  to  put  the 
* '  Kankee  Bridle ' '  on  his  wrists  behind  him. 

"You  needn't  tie  us  up  like  slaves.  We  are 
gentlemen,"  he  urged  stoutly,  but  I  ordered  him 
to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  which  he  did. 

I  then  ordered  the  two  men  into  the  stern  of  the 
motor  boat  and  applied  the  same  "Yankee  Twist" 
about  their  ankles,  fastening  the  two  of  them  to- 
gether. The  other  man  appeared  dead. 

I  searched  out  and  tossed  into  the  motor  boat 
everything  of  a  private  nature,  including  some  ex- 
pensive hand  luggage,  afraid  the  boat  would  sink. 

I  left  the  dead  man  on  board  and  started  with 
my  prisoners  at  full  speed  to  where  I  thought  the 
engineer  and  cook  had  possibly  landed  in  the  rid- 
dled lifeboat. 

I  could  soon  see  them  lying  on  the  beach.  As  I 
approached  they  started  away. 

Running  into  the  shore  as  close  as  I  could,  I  fired 


FIGHTING  BYNG  203 

at  them,  and  they  stopped.  It  didn't  take  long  to 
get  and  tie  them  up  with  the  rest.  Without  arms, 
on  one  of  the  barren  coral  islands  that  compose 
the  Tortugas,  they  knew  they  had  no  chance  of 
escape. 

I  then  returned  to  the  wreck,  taking  the  lifeboat 
in  tow.  Small  air  compartments  in  each  end  pre- 
vented the  cutter  sinking  entirely,  but  it  had 
drifted  away  from  the  anchored  Sprite,  on  which 
I  could  see  little  Jim  moving  about.  Turning  my 
attention  to  the  "dead"  man,  I  found  the  bullet 
had  hit  him  so  high  on  his  forehead  it  did  not  enter 
his  head,  but  had  ploughed  its  way  under  the  skin, 
the  shock  causing  insensibility.  Drenching  him 
with  sea  water  soon  developed  signs  of  life,  and 
it  wasn't  long  before  he  joined  the  sullen  crew  in 
corded  harness,  his  head  bandaged  the  best  I  knew 
how. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DEFINITELY  deciding  the  big  Hun  boat  would  not 
sink,  I  let  the  anchor  go,  pulled  the  little  lifeboat 
aboard  and  plugged  the  bullet  holes,  for  I  knew  I 
would  need  it. 

The  Gulf  sun  was  pretty  hot  and  I  didn  't  blame 
the  Boches  much  when  they  called  for  drink  and 
food. 

Their  cook,  a  flabby  tool  scarcely  full  witted, 
possessed  a  craven  fear  of  going  into  the  next 
world.  I  released  him  with  a  forcible  injunction 
that  his  first  tricky  move  would  send  him  there  in- 
stantly. With  knocking  knees  and  gibbering  to 
himself,  he  went  about  feeding  the  others. 

I  saw  little  Jim  moving  around  on  the  Sprite, 
so  concluded  matters  in  her  quarter  were  satis- 

204 


FIGHTING  BYNG  205 

factory.  I  had  to  go  over  there  and  I  felt  sure 
of  what  I  would  find.  I  hesitated,  however,  for 
it  was  a  delicate  situation.  But  it  could  be  put 
off  no  longer,  so  I  got  into  the  little  lifeboat  and 
drew  up  alongside. 

With  a  grimness  of  a  lion  playing  with  a  cub 
little  Jim  had  coaxed  her  black-bearded  father 
back,  and  given  him  food  and  dry  clothing. 
Though  still  very  weak  he  was  sitting  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  boat,  leaning  against  the  tiny  cabin, 
evidently  pleased  with  her  wheedling  and  caresses. 
But  when  he  got  a  good  look  at  me  I  thought  his 
eyes  would  jump  from  their  sockets.  At  first  there 
was  the  fierce,  savage  look  of  the  enraged  Geor- 
gia Cracker,  which  as  quickly  melted  into  a  joyful 
delight  as  his  memory  served  him. 

Little  Jim  ran  to  the  side  of  the  Sprite,  grasped 
me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  to  him.  "Daddy,  this 
is  Mr.  Wood.  If  he  had  not  come  to-day  what 
might  have  happened!"  she  exclaimed,  manifestly 
undaunted  by  the  dreadful  experience  she  had  un- 
dergone. 


206  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Though  full  bearded,  with  black  hair  like  a 
lion's  mane,  there  remained  that  wonderful  aqui- 
line nose  and  powerful  jaw  and  chin  of  Fight- 
ing Howard  Byng.  From  where  he  sat  he 
slowly  reached  up  a  broad,  generous,  strong 
hand. 

Little  Jim  thought  the  emotion  he  showed  was 
in  recognition  of  the  service  I  had  rendered  him. 
But  as  our  eyes  met  we  both  understood — to 
little  Jim  his  name  should  remain  Canby — sponge 
diver,  merchant  and  Gulf  trader. 

''Little  Jim,  your  eyes  are  good  and  so  is  your 
aim.  You  watch  what  is  going  on  over  there  while 
I  have  a  talk  with  your  father. ' '  Then  I  explained 
to  her  that  the  cook  was  commissioned  to  feed 
them  food  from  his  hand,  as  their  OWTI  hands  were 
serving  another  purpose  just  then. 

Without  hesitation  she  took  her  rifle  and  sat 
down  in  the  stern,  letting  her  legs  hang  over — the 
same  picture  as  when  I  first  saw  her  sitting  on  the 
wharf  waiting  for  the  tide  to  uncover  the  bull  alli- 
gator. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  207 

Howard  Byng  sat  there  devouring  me  with  his 
eyes,  recollections  rushing  through  his  mind.  I 
seated  myself  beside  him.  He  seemed  to  want  me 
close  to  him. 

"I  was  sure  I  would  see  you  again,  but  I  never 
pictured  it  this  way,'*  said  he,  turning  his  face 
toward  me.  "I  would  have  drowned  if  you  and 
little  Jim  hadn't  come;  the  cannon  shot  put  me 
out — it  is  a  terrible  shock  under  water. ' ' 

"An  active  life  has  many  surprises,"  I  an- 
swered slowly. 

"You've  been  at  it  all  the  time !  I  would  rather 
be  able  to  do  what  you  have  done  to-day  than  to 
have  all  the  money  in  the  world.  I  recall  what 
you  told  me  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  That  mere 
business — mere  money  would  not  satisfy.  I  could 
not  see  it  then." 

"You  have  made  headway.  Starting  with  noth- 
ing, not  even  a  name,"  I  said,  so  low  that  little 
Jim  couldn  't  hear. 

"Yes — I  have  done  a  little.  First  I  had  to  work 
to  live,  and  now  little  Jim  is  all  I  work  for.  I — I 


208  FIGHTING  BYNG 

— suppose  you  know — all  about  it — how  it  hap- 
pened?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  it,  but  I  want  to. 
Just  now  we  both  have  something  important  on 
hand.  I  must  get  these  men  moving  north  as  soon 
as  possible. " 

*  *  Little  Jim  tells  me  you  landed  them  all.  I  wish 
I  could  have  helped.  I  can  tell  you  something 
about  them.  I  have  known  it  for  a  long  time,  but 
— but  you  know  my  position  is  a  little  peculiar. 
But  I  didn't  think  they  would  try  to  kill  me." 

"  Ho  ward,  just  now  I  want  to  get  the  Boches  and 
the  cutter  into  port.  I  think  the  boat's  bulkheads 
will  keep  her  up. ' ' 

"Will  she  answer  to  the  rudder!" 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"Then  I  can  tow  her  in  this  boat;  I  can  pull  a 
train  of  cars,"  he  said,  brightening. 

"Can  you?  The  cutter  is  a  wreck.  If  you  pull 
her  in  she's  your  salvage." 

He  smiled  for  the  first  time,  though  he  still 
labored  for  breath  with  which  to  speak. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  209 

"I've  been  doing  a  little  in  that  line  for  some 
time, ' '  he  said,  moving  his  foot  toward  an  ingot  of 
copper.  "That's  why  the  Bulows  wanted  to  get 
me,  and  I  guess  they  would  have  done  it  this  time 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  you."  He  spoke  grimly,  tak- 
ing the  oxygen  tube  and  drinking  deeply  from  it. 
"I'll  be  ready  for  anything  in  a  few  minutes 
now,"  said  he,  and  with  considerable  effort  he 
stood  up  and  looked  across  at  the  wreck  like  an 
eagle  ready  to  swoop  down  upon  its  prey. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  take  it — Key  West?" 

"No — just  now  I  would  rather  hide  it  and  get 
the  prisoners  up  North  quickly. ' ' 

"I  can  take  it  where  it  can't  be  found  in  a  hun- 
dred years,"  he  said,  looking  over  his  engine. 

Little  Jim  still  watched  as  we  raised  anchor  to 
get  under  way.  He,  or  rather  little  Jim,  towed  the 
Hun  cutter.  I  ran  the  Titian  and  followed.  I 
wanted  Washington  to  get  their  eyes  and  ears  full 
before  the  Boche  interest  heard  of  it.  I  had 
started  something  big  and  needed  help. 

Byng  hid  the  Boche  cutter  in  a  basin  among 


210  FIGHTING  BYNG 

some  small  islands,  and  ran  for  his  own  place  not 
far  away.  He  tied  up  and  was  waiting  for  me, 
fully  recovered,  the  powerful,  robust  man  of  the 
sea.  Six  men  were  an  overload  for  the  Titian  and 
we  couldn't  keep  up  with  the  Sprite. 

Howard  didn't  pay  much  attention  to  me  until 
they  were  lined  up  on  his  little  wharf. 

I  didn't  like  the  way  he  stood  there,  eyeing  the 
fat  man. 

He  would  not  come  close,  seeming  to  fear  that 
he  might  harm  the  fellow  if  he  did.  He  appeared 
to  be  struggling  to  restrain  himself  and  succeeded 
pretty  well.  I  thought  it  was  because  he  saw  the 
bandaged  hand  that  little  Jim  had  punctured  when 
trying  to  break  the  lock  of  his  warehouse. 

He  grew  into  the  fierce  Georgia  Cracker  again, 
whom  I  had  seen  stand  up  and  offer  to  fight  a 
whole  camp  of  rough  surveyors — but  more  intense 
if  it  were  possible. 

I  started  over  to  him  and  asked,  "  Where  can  I 
keep  them  until  a  train  comes  going  north?  One 
is  due  in  about  three  hours." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  211 

"It  don't  stop  here,"  he  said,  never  for  an 
instant  taking  his  eyes  off  the  big  man  with  the 
great  girth  and  jowl. 

"It  will  stop  for  me,  and  before  it  gets  here  I 
must  search  each  of  these  fellows  down  to  the 
very  skin." 

His  mind  was  working  like  a  whip.  Without  re- 
plying he  turned  on  his  heel,  went  into  the  store 
and  returned  with  a  key  to  the  warehouse. 

"They  were  so  anxious  to  see  the  warehouse, 
we  will  satisfy  them  now.  Keep  them  in  here," 
said  he,  unlocking  and  throwing  open  the  door. 

The  big  man  was  exhausted.  He  dropped  in  a 
greasy  heap  on  a  pile  of  green  hides.  When  I  cut 
the  cords  he  could  hardly  get  his  arms  forward. 
His  wrists  looked  bad. 

I  began  with  the  cook.  Made  him  strip  before 
me  and  I  examined  each  garment  critically,  re- 
moving all  personal  effects,  putting  them  in  a 
package,  carefully  marking  his  name  and  address 
on  it  so  that  they  would  be  restored.  This  gave 
me  an  excuse  to  ask  a  great  many  other  questions. 


212  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Each  man,  when  searched,  was  carefully  segre- 
gated from  the  unsearched. 

Howard  stood  by  eagerly  looking  on  at  the 
thoroughness  with  which  I  proceeded,  using 
leather  from  valuable  skins  with  apparent  indif- 
ference, to  tie  up  their  effects. 

The  thin  man  proved  to  be  the  manager  of  all 
the  Bulow  interests  in  that  section.  He  had  con- 
siderable cash  on  his  person  and  indignantly  pro- 
tested that  I  was  high-handed  in  the  whole  pro- 
cedure. It  was  an  outrage  some  mighty  power 
would  avenge,  he  insisted  vehemently.  At  that 
time  the  Boches  actually  believed  that  when  they 
pulled  the  proper  string  some  twenty  million  Ger- 
mans would  rise  in  defense  of  the  "fatherland," 
but  I  never  saw  it  just  that  way. 

The  fat  man  with  the  bandaged  hand  had  re- 
vived enough  to  show  great  interest  in  my  pro- 
cedure with  the  manager,  evidently  hoping  that 
they  two,  as  dignitaries,  were  to  be  spared  the  in- 
dignity of  being  stripped  and  searched. 

It  took  more  than  an  hour  to  get  to  the  wilted 


FIGHTING  BYNG  218 

tub  of  tallow.  His  white  flannel  trousers  and  deli- 
cately marked  shirt,  expensive  Panama,  and  shoes 
were  badly  mussed  by  the  ruthless  treatment 
accorded  him  while  in  the  boat,  and  also  later  on 
when  he  came  in  contact  with  the  salted  hides. 
Brain  heat  or  dandruff  had  cleared  away  his 
front  hair.  He  did  not  look  at  all  lovely,  but, 
having  rested,  was  full  of  fight.  His  attitude  was 
that  of  a  maddened  bull,  his  murky  eyes  like  a  pool 
of  filthy  sewage.  When  finally  he  stood  stripped 
before  us  I  glanced  at  Howard.  His  attitude  was 
alarming.  He  looked  like  a  lion  ready  to  tear  its 
prey  limb  from  limb.  I  couldn't  understand  at 
first.  Gradually  a  great  light  dawned  in  my  mind 
— but  there  were  things  I  was  not  supposed  to 
know  about,  as  yet,  so  I  turned  my  gaze  upon  the 
prisoner. 

"I  refuse  to  submit  to  such  treatment!"  he 
hissed  from  between  lips  now  repulsively  purple. 
"You  have  no  right  to  treat  even  common  pris- 
oners in  this  way — dogs — damned  Yankee  dogs ! ' ' 
he  let  out,  sitting  upright  now.  * '  I  represent  great 


214  FIGHTING  BYNG 

interests.  I  am  an  officer  in  a  large  bank.  You 
will  pay  dearly  for  this!" 

Howard  stood  some  distance  away  from  the 
frothing  Boche.  His  eyes  scintillated  fire  of  ex- 
treme hatred.  His  fingers  clenched  and  he  took  a 
step  toward  the  man,  then  hesitated.  The  situ- 
ation was  tense.  I  was  afraid  he  might  do  a  rash 
thing.  At  last  I  made  reply  to  the  fellow. 

1  'It  is  my  right  and  duty  to  make  a  prisoner 
safe  for  transportation,"  said  I.  "If  you  don't 
remove  your  clothing  for  examination  I  shall  do 
it  forcibly,  and  I  don't  intend  to  wait  long, 
either."  I  spoke  quietly,  now  watching  Howard 
also. 

Then  I  went  at  the  rebellious  Boche  and  flipped 
open  his  belt,  starting,  with  little  delicacy,  to 
undress  him.  When  he  saw  I  meant  busi- 
ness, he  relented  and  began  working  at  his  own 
collar. 

The  manager,  who  had  donned  his  clothing, 
came  from  among  those  examined  and  asked  per- 
mission to  speak  with  him. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  215 

"If  you  come  one  step  nearer  I  will  shoot  you 
dead  in  your  tracks, ' '  I  warned.  ' '  Tricks  like  that 
won't  work.  He  is  going  to  do  what  I  tell  him  in 
exactly  the  manner  I  want  him  to, "  I  said,  forcibly 
enough,  taking  up  a  rifle  leaning  behind  me. 

Howard  moved  in  front  of  the  manager,  like 
the  sturdy  oak  he  was,  grand,  powerful,  magnifi- 
cent, able  to  cope  with  all  of  them  unaided.  The 
last  hope  was  gone,  so  the  undressing  began  over 
again.  Piece  after  piece  the  fat  Boche  tossed 
upon  the  floor  in  front  of  me,  in  rage  and  unbroken 
spirit,  affecting  an  air  of  grandeur  that  intimated 
condign  punishment  for  those  to  blame  for  this 
terrible  outrage  on  his  person,  and  had  to  be 
prodded  again  for  the  belt  he  wore  next  to  his 
skin. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Howard  would  devour 
him  with  his  eyes  as  I  scrutinized  his  silk  under- 
wear and  returned  it  after  a  careful  search. 

I  took  everything — watch,  trinkets,  money  and 
wallet,  returning  only  his  clothing,  the  belt 
being  retained  for  more  deliberate  examination. 


216  FIGHTING    BYNG 

I  have  spent  most  of  my  life  studying  men  and 
women,  but  this  man 's  case  mystified  me.  Dressed 
again,  he  looked  a  good  deal  of  a^ersonage,  un- 
doubtedly forceful,  and  a  power  among  men.  But 
his  shrunken  legs  and  flabbiness  of  muscle  I  could 
not  understand,  nor  could  I  comprehend  Howard's 
consuming  interest  in  him.  The  fact  of  his  having 
tried  unlawfully  to  " break  and  enter"  Byng's 
warehouse,  only  to  get  his  hand  bored  through  by 
little  Jim,  was  not  enough.  He  was  a  prisoner 
now  for  his  morning's  work.  I  could  not  resist 
the  impression  we  get  of  certain  females,  not 
women,  who,  barren  themselves,  hate  children,  and 
kiss  dogs. 

Well — perhaps  I  did  wrap  his  personal  belong- 
ings with  more  care  and  formality  than  I  did  the 
others. 

"What  name,  please?"  I  asked,  poising  my  pen- 
cil. 

He  looked  at  the  manager  and  did  not  answer 
readily. 

"Forman — Charles  Forman,"  he  finally  blurted. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  217 

"That's  a  lie!"  came  from  Howard  Byng  as 
clear  as  the  sound  of  a  church  bell.  "His  name  is 
Ramund — a  damned  Prussian!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOWARD  and  I  patched  up  the  bow  of  the  Bulow 
boat  and  a  Government  vessel  came  and  took  it 
away  to  an  Atlantic  port,  with  the  five  prisoners 
also  on  board.  This  was  safer  than  the  trip  by 
rail  and  I  was  much  relieved  thereby. 

I  was  instructed  by  wire  to  remain  to  note  the 
effect  and  pick  up  additional  information.  I  was 
glad  as  I  wanted  to  get  Howard's  story  and  ac- 
count of  his  doings  during  the  last  fifteen  years, 
since  I  left  him  in  New  York,  a  rich  man  with  en- 
viable surroundings  and  prospects. 

He  insisted  that  I  make  my  headquarters  with 
him,  placing  little  Jim's  swift  Titian  entirely  at 
my  disposal. 

He  was  just  the  same  likable  fellow  he  was  the 
218 


FIGHTING  BYNG  219 

last  time  I  stopped  with  him,  up  in  Georgia.  He 
was  most  attentive,  and  always  anxious  for  my 
safety  when  I  went  away,  even  for  a  short  time, 
but  I  had  to  wait  several  days  before  he  was  ready 
to  talk. 

An  alien  enemy  custodian  took  charge  of  the  Bu- 
low  affairs  and  marines  were  quickly  planted  on 
all  their  ships  and  tugs  before  they  could  be  dam- 
aged. In  fact  everything  was  working  well,  so  I 
was  in  no  hurry,  and  awaited  a  convenient  time 
for  my  heart-to-heart  talk  with  Howard. 

One  afternoon  little  Jim  took  Don  marketing 
in  the  Titian  for  fruit  and  vegetables  up  on  the 
mainland  of  Florida,  a  small  matter,  to  her,  of 
sixty  or  seventy  miles.  Howard  busied  himself 
tinkering  about  his  big  boat,  the  Sprite,  getting 
it  ready  for  sea,  myself  an  interested  onlooker. 

"Howard,  are  you  sure  you  are  doing  the  wis- 
est thing  by  going  on  this  way?"  I  asked  as  soon 
as  I  saw  he  was  through  with  the  job  on  hand. 

"You  mean  going  by  the  name  of  Canbyf  " 


220  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Yes." 

"Well — maybe  not.  You  know  I  never  took 
Canby  as  a  name.  They — the  fishermen — just 
gave  it  to  me,  and  for  a  long  time  it  suited  my 
purposes.  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  everybody 
and  everything  and  if  I  had  planned  it  deliber- 
ately it  could  not  have  come  out  better.  But  little 
Jim's  future  bothers  me.  She  can't  stay  here 
much  longer;  she  has  got  to  go  to  school  some- 
where, and  she,  girl-like,  wants  to  go  up  North, 
about  which  I  have  told  her  so  much  in  order  to 
amuse  her  when  little.  What  do  you  think!" 
he  asked,  again  the  simple  Georgia  Cracker. 

"It  will  be  pretty  hard  to  advise  you  without 
knowing  more  of  the  circumstances,"  I  said, 
dropping  down  on  a  seat  in  the  cabin  by  a  port- 
hole. 

He  dropped  his  tools,  came  in  and  sat  on  the 
other  side,  throwing  off  his  hat.  His  long  black 
mane  was  turning  slightly  gray  at  the  temples, 
but  his  body  was  sturdy  and  powerful. 

"I  never  before  felt  as  though  I  could  talk  about 


FIGHTING  BYNG  221 

it,  and  don't  believe  I  could  now  to  anyone  but 
you.  I  think  it  would  be  a  relief  to  tell  you  because 
you  have  known  me  so  long  and  understand  so 
many  things,"  he  said,  filling  his  pipe  carefully 
and  lighting  up.  He  leaned  back,  crossed  his  legs, 
and  looked  keenly  the  friendship  he  felt  for  me. 

"You  know,'*  he  began,  in  wonderful  self-re- 
straint, *  'it  takes  a  long  time  to  get  real,  cankerous 
bitterness  out  of  a  man — me  anyhow.  I  think  it 
was  you  who  told  me  that  hatred,  malice,  and  re- 
venge were  the  three  arch  enemies  of  peace  of 
mind  and  development.  Wood,  I  have  remem- 
bered that,  and  am  glad  I  have  made  some  prog- 
ress, but  I  suppose  I  am  like  everybody  else.  I 
think  my  trouble  has  been  the  worst.  I  believe 
now  that  if  I  had  followed  your  advice  and  not 
borrowed  from  the  Transatlantic  I  could  have  kept 
my  property,  but  I  would  have  to  go  through 
some  kind  of  a  melting  fire  to  be  made  into  good 
steel.  No  doubt,  the  family  trouble  would  have 
come  in  some  other  way."  I  arched  my  brows, 
appearing  not  to  understand. 


222  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"You,  of  course,  recall,  for  I  know  you  don't 
forget  anything,  the  last  talk  we  had  in  the  Wal- 
dorf in  New  York, ' '  he  continued.  ' '  You  advised 
me  to  sit  tight  and  let  good  enough  alone.  That 
night,  and  for  a  day  or  two,  I  thought  you  had 
grown  over-cautious  and  conservative,  and  had 
entered  the  class  who  hold  up  their  hands  and 
cry  be  careful,  be  cautious;  but  never  do  a  damn 
thing  for  themselves.  But  I  soon  began  to  see  that 
way  myself,  and  decided  to  let  things  be  as  they 
were.  Mrs.  Potter  took  the  lead  against  me.  That 
name  I  have  never  pronounced  since  then,  till 
now.  It  sounds  strange  to  do  so.  It  seems  like 
recalling  things  to  memory  that  might  have  hap- 
pened when  I  was  on  earth  at  some  former  time. 
Mrs.  Potter,  as  you  well  know,  was  my  sister-in- 
law,  my  partner 's  wife,  and  while  the  family  stood 
well  socially,  she  had  a  great  ambition  to  be  at  the 
head  of  the  Four  Hundred.  She  wanted  to  be 
worth  millions.  She  not  only  filled  Potter  with  it 
but  won  over  her  father,  and  with  all  of  them 
against  me  I  gave  in  and  the  deal  went  through. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  223 

I  am  satisfied  now  the  Transatlantic  Trust  Com- 
pany plotted  to  acquire  the  property.  The  panic 
played  into  their  hands,  enabling  them  to  call  our 
loans,  without  which  we  could  not  run  or  pay  the 
interest  on  the  bonds.  They  took  snap  judgment 
and  foreclosed  as  cold  as  a  cake  of  ice,  kicked  me 
out,  and  Byng  &  Potter,  Incorporated,  was  theirs. 
I  had  a  card  up  my  sleeve  that  would  have  brought 
them  down,  but  this  blackleg  Ramund  extended 
the  robbery  to  my  home  and  wrecked  that,  too." 

Howard  stopped  here,  filled  his  pipe  again  and 
looked  at  me  appealingly,  apparently  waiting  for 
me  to  arrive  at  the  true  significance  of  his  quiet 
statement  of  fact. 

* 'Ramund,  Ramund,  you  don't  mean  to  say " 

And  then,  as  though  shot  between  the  eyes,  I 
recalled  the  same  name  and  the  peculiar  cultivated 
inflection  given  it  by  Norma  Byng  some  twelve 
years  before.  Now  the  cause  of  his  extreme  inter- 
est and  agitation  when  we  were  examining  the 
prisoners  a  few  days  before  rushed  upon  me  like 
Niagara.  I  could  still  hear  Byng's  cut — "It  is  a 


224  FIGHTING  BYNG 

lie,  his  name  is  Eamund — a  damned  Prussian!" 
It  was  strange  I  did  not  remember  the  name  then, 
especially  as  both  times  it  had  been  connected  with 
a  foreign  banking  house. 

"Yes — yes,"  said  Howard,  taking  his  pipe  down 
and  looking  out  of  the  cabin  door  reflectively, 
" don't  you  think  I  have  made  some  progress  to  be 
able  to  even  talk  about  it  now  without  becoming 
insane?  I  am  trying  to  tell  you  of  a  snake  that 
has  crawled  across  my  path  twice  to  destroy  me. 
You  know  that  don't  happen  often.  I  should  have 
killed  him  the  first  time.  I  would  have  done  it  had 
it  not  been  for  one  thing.  I  can  think  of  it  now — 
but  I  never  dared  to  before.  I  couldn't  tell  any- 
one but  you,  even  now!  You  seem  to  support 
me." 

He  stopped,  puzzled  by  the  expression  on  my 
face  as  the  details  of  my  meeting  with  Norma 
Byng,  his  wife,  years  before,  rushed  through  my 
mind,  and  the  dreadful  sadness  with  which  she  told 
me  of  the  same  occurrence.  Her  simple  story  im- 
pressed me  with  added  force  after  the  lapse  of 


FIGHTING  BYNG  225 

time.  By  gesture  I  asked  him  to  proceed.  The 
fact  was  I  could  see  valuable  evidence  for  the 
Government,  too,  in  the  circumstances. 

"  As  I  said  before,"  he  continued  slowly,  "I  had 
an  opportunity  and  would  have  killed  him,  if  he 
had  not  been  secretly  encouraged.  I  can  see  now 
I  was  all  but  insane  when  they  not  only  took  our 
properties,  confiscating  even  my  private  account, 
leaving  me  without  a  cent,  but  I  had  to  sell  my 
household  effects  to  live.  Then  Mrs.  Potter 
started  on  another  diabolical  course.  She  delib- 
erately undertook  to  sell  my  beautiful  wife  to  the 
Prussian — and  was  making  headway  before  I  no- 
ticed it.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  realize  it  and  I 
was  sure  of  it  before  I  acted.  I  went  down  to 
Georgia  to  get  old  Don,  the  only  man  I  ever  en- 
trusted with  the  full  details  of  how  the  turpentine 
and  rosin  could  be  taken  from  a  stump,  bringing 
him  back  to  New  York  with  me. 

"Their  scheming,  now  in  full  swing,  was  work- 
ing well.  One  day  I  was  told  that  my  wife  had 
gone  to  Ramund's  apartment.  Desperate,  I  went 


226  FIGHTING   BYNG 

there,  intending  to  break  in  the  door,  but  that  was 
not  necessary.  In  his  cocksureness  and  insolent 
bravado  he  had  not  locked  it  and  I  entered.  I 
heard  him  tell  her  how  much  more  he  could  do  for 
her  than  a  bankrupt,  discredited  husband  who 
could  be  easily  removed.  No  protests  came  from 
my  wife.  Her  silence  was  consent  enough.  I  was 
as  cool  as  I  would  be  hunting  for  bob-cats.  He 
took  her  in  his  arms,  kissing  her  passionately. 
She  did  not  resist  and  that  was  all  that  saved  his 
life.  I  told  her  to  go  home,  showed  her  out  and 
locked  the  door."  Byng  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands  for  a  moment,  so  I  waited  silently,  until  he 
began  again. 

"He  was  a  full  match  for  me  physically,"  said 
he,  wearily,  "but  my  sense  of  injury  was  so  burn- 
ingly  intense  that  every  muscle  was  as  though 
laminated  with  steel  wire.  I  felt  a  strength  that 
knew  no  bounds.  Fear  and  prudence  had  departed 
in  the  presence  of  this  home  wrecker.  Almost  my 
first  blow  knocked  him  senseless,  but  such  a  pun- 
ishment, even  if  I  had  killed  him,  seemed  mean, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  227 

small,  dreadfully  inadequate.  Instantly  it  oc- 
curred to  me  that  undesirables  should  be  unable 
to  reproduce  their  species.  Desperately,  perhaps 
insanely,  I  used  skill  acquired  in  the  pine  woods. 
In  a  sense  I  was  protecting  little  Jim  and  per- 
forming a  service  toward  the  world."  He  looked 
at  me  appealingly,  but  went  on  with  his  story. 

"I  went  home  immediately,"  said  he,  "but  my 
wife  was  not  there.  Deciding  she  was  unfit  to 
further  care  for  little  Jim,  I  gathered  a  few  things 
for  the  use  of  both  of  us,  took  my  child  and  left 
within  an  hour. 

"Though  desperate  and  irrational,  a  part  of  my 
mind  worked  with  method.  The  first  schooner  I 
ever  had,  the  Canby,  was  considered  too  small 
and  worthless  to  be  put  in  the  mortgage.  But  for 
old  time's  sake  I  had  kept  her  anchored  in  a  safe 
place  and  well  looked  after.  I  got  old  Don,  took 
the  Canby  and  started  somewhere,  I  did  not  care 
a  damn  where,  except  I  wanted  to  get  away." 

"You  came  south,  of  course,"  I  ventured  for 
the  sake  of  saying  something. 


228  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  attachment  we  all  feel  for 
our  birthplace  that  made  me  steer  south,"  he  as- 
sented. "In  a  short  time  we  ran  into  bad  weather, 
and  for  what  seemed  an  interminable  time  drifted 
with  bare  poles.  To  make  sail  was  impossible. 
How  we  ever  navigated  down  the  coast,  through 
the  Straits,  into  the  Gulf,  I  have  no  rational  idea. 
All  I  can  recall  is  that  I  took  great  care  of  little 
Jim  and  that  anything  else  did  not  matter. 

"One  morning  we  fetched  up  here  on  this  beach, 
so  high  that  in  low  tide  the  Cariby  was  on  dry  sand. 
Her  bones  are  out  there  now,  sacred  to  me." 

"I  would  imagine  so,"  said  I  absently,  thinking 
of  the  scoundrel  Ramund. 

1  i  But  I  did  not  feel  that  way  the  morning  I  came 
ashore,  carrying  little  Jim  in  my  arms,"  he  con- 
tinued. "It  seemed  as  though  the  Canby  had 
added  the  last  drop,  the  dregs  of  misfortune,  and 
had  deserted  *ne.  I  shook  my  fist  at  it,  but  re- 
solved to  fight  on  for  little  Jim,  old  Don's  faith- 
fulness being  a  ray  of  hope. 

"We  first  made  a  house  tent  of  the  sails  of  the 


FIGHTING  BYNG  229 

Canby,  which  we  gradually  built  permanent.  I 
took  to  sponging  to  provide  for  little  Jim,  and  I 
guess  you  know  and  can  understand  the  rest,"  he 
finished,  struggling  with  the  emotion  his  whole 
body  expressed. 

The  sacred  solemnity  of  this  powerful,  magnifi- 
cent man,  baring  his  very  soul  to  me,  impressed 
me  profoundly.  We  remained  silent  until  I  could 
control  my  voice.  Finally  I  asked : 

"Howard,  have  you  heard  anything  from  the 
North  since  you  came  here?" 

1 1  No — not  a  word.  I  have  not  met  a  soul  I  ever 
saw  before  until  you  came.  For  years  I  didn't 
want  to.  And  then  a  desire  to  see  some  one  con- 
sumed me.  You  may  think  it  strange  but  I  was 
too  big  a  coward — a  downright  coward.  Some- 
how I  always  thought  you  would  find  me.  I  knew 
you  went  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  sea,  and  that 
you  would  eventually  come.  That's  why  I  didn't 
seem  surprised  the  other  day  when  I  recognized 
you.  When  little  Jim  told  me  there  was  a  salos- 
man  to  sell  me  goods  I  never  suspected,  but  I 


230  FIGHTING  BYNG 

should  have  known  you  would  not  come  with  a 
brass  band,"  he  replied,  greatly  relieved  at  having 
unloaded  a  burden  he  had  carried  for  fifteen 
years. 


CHAPTER  XX 

REHASHED  departmental  reports  become  mere 
braggadocio  when  the  human  interest  is  lacking. 

I  had  written  perhaps  one  of  the  most  vital 
chapters  in  American  history.  So  far  as  the  de- 
partment is  concerned  it  will  remain  unsung.  My 
reward  is  in  knowing  I  did  it. 

Its  direct  results  were  the  taking  over  of  ships, 
needed  more  than  money,  and  the  appointment  of 
a  custodian  of  alien  enemy  property  to  confiscate 
hundreds  of  millions  of  dollars'  worth,  expelling 
the  Hun  and  his  kin  from  our  frontiers  and  our 
industrial  life  for  all  time.  Though  Howard  was 
well  past  want,  I  felt  for  him.  I  suspected  he  was 
even  affluent  again — you  can't  keep  such  a  man 
from  making  money,  even  on  the  barren  Keys.  I 

231 


232  FIGHTING  BYNG 

felt  sorry  for  his  wife,  Norma  Byng.  Little  Jim 
had  wound  herself  about  me  as  had  her  wonderful 
father  who  sat  silently  in  the  <abyi  of  his  boat 
looking  wistfully  at  me.  Maybe  it  was  because 
he  made  me  her  godfather  and  called  her  little 
Jim  I  felt  that  the  child  was  partly  mine. 

Howard,  scourged  into  bitterness,  was  possessed 
with  an  inflexible  conviction  that  his  beautiful 
wife  had  betrayed  him.  I  had  to  be  extremely 
careful.  I  must  wait  for  him  to  see  the  light  as 
though  from  within  himself.  Assuming  a  more 
cheerful  attitude  again,  I  asked: 

"Howard,  have  you  heard  absolutely  nothing 
of  what  has  been  going  on  outside  1  I  mean  about 
your  private  matters." 

"No  more  than  if  I  was  on  another  planet  until 
now,  when  this  man  appeared  in  my  life  again," 
he  replied  emphatically,  * '  and  you  came  as  I  knew 
you  would.  And — and — well,  you  can  see  how  I 
am  fixed.  How  can  I  tell  little  Jim  my  name  is 
not  Canby?  How  can  I  explain  to  her  that  the 
fishermen  named  me  Canby  after  the  wrecked 


FIGHTING  BTNG  238 

schooner,  and  I  let  it  go  at  that  beoause  I  was  prac- 
tically insane  for  several  years.  You  can  see  how 
much  she  is  to  me  now.  I  have  been  mother  and 
father  to  her  since  she  was  a  year  old.  We  are 
so  near  one,  it  makes  me  a  coward,  I  tell  you." 

'  *  Life  has  certain  responsibilities,  Howard,  we 
can 't  escape ;  perhaps  you  have  arrived  at  another 
turning  point  that  calls  for  the  big  part  of  you.'* 

"Maybe  so — maybe  so — I  can  see  now  that  you 
will  need  me  as  a  witness  against  these  men.  Our 
country  is  involved.  I  guess  I  must  come  out, 
at  least  part  way,  from  my  isolation  for  that  rea- 
son, even  if  it  kills.  It's  no  time  to  slack  against 
our  Government,"  he  said,  more  as  an  audible 
thought,  giving  me  my  cue. 

"Howard,  you  are  right,  your  old  English  an- 
cestors have  never  shirked  when  their  country 
needed  them.  They  fought  in  the  Revolution,  they 
battled  with  Indians  and  Mexicans,  in  the  sixties 
they  grappled  with  their  consciences,  then  later 
they  went  after  Spain  like  tigers,  and  now  old 
Georgia  is  sending  its  best  blood  in  hordes  against 


234  FIGHTING  BYNG 

the  Hun  with  a  whoop  and  yell  that  cannot  be  mis- 
taken. Even  if  they  do  like  to  moonshine  a  little 
they  fight  for  their  country  and  that  is  the  last 
and  best  test." 

His  eyes  glittered  with  a  new  kind  of  fire.  I 
knew  I  had  him. 

"Have — have  you  been  up  the  river — I  mean 
where  the  plant  is — where  we  got  the  moonshiners 
that  time?"  I  could  see  all  that  grew  out  of  that 
incident  now  flashed  through  his  mind  at  the  men- 
tion of  moonshiners. 

"No — but  I  have  inquired  several  times.  The 
land  is  raising  cotton  but  the  paper  mill  is  not 
running.  I  believe  they  have  made  no  headway 
with  the  stumps.  All  in  all,  it's  not  doing  very 
well." 

"Thought  so,"  he  replied,  intensely  gratified, 
"I  could  feel  it,"  he  added,  "and  what  has  be- 
come of  those  that  were  my  people?"  he  asked 
with  effort. 

"I  haven't  had  much  information  for  seven  or 
eight  years,  except  this  man  Bamund  turning  up. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  235 

Potter  went  back  to  clerking  in  a  bank.  His  wife 
has  soured  on  the  world  in  general  and  taken  on 
acid  fat.  The  old  folks  died. ' ' 

"And ?"  His  pipe  was  laid  aside  and  he 

held  himself  viselike  and  looked  the  vital  ques- 
tion. 

"She  is  estranged  from  her  sister  and  living 
quietly. ' ' 

"Did  you — have  you  seen  her  yourself?"  he 
asked  coldly. 

"Yes,  a  long  time  ago,  she  was  still  beautiful, 
making  her  own  living,  but,  Howard,  I  believe — 
I  know  she  is  a  good  woman. ' '  I  decided  I  could 
not  tell  more  then. 

The  effect  of  this  information  was  magical. 
Though  his  eyes  took  on  the  fire  of  the  fierce  Geor- 
gia Cracker,  I  believe  he  was  ashamed  of  it.  He 
arose  and  walked  out  on  deck  and  looked  over  the 
Gulf.  It  was  about  time  for  little  Jim  and  Don  to 
return.  Finally  he  returned  and  sat  down.  He 
was  learning  to  conquer  himself. 

"Wood — am  I  doing  anything  wrong — am  T  vio- 


236  FIGHTING  BTNG 

la  ting  any  law  in  robbing  that  wreck?"  he  sur- 
prised me  by  abruptly  changing  the  subject. 

"You  mean  where  you  have  been  getting  those 
copper  bars?"  I  asked,  somewhat  amused  as  the 
subject  had  never  been  referred  to  directly. 

"Yes." 

"No;  on  the  other  hand,  you  are  doing  a  patri- 
otic duty.  If  a  wreck  floats,  Uncle  Sam  is  inter- 
ested, but  at  the  bottom,  getting  is  keeping.  But, 
Howard,  that  is  something  of  which  I  want  some 
details.  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  to  tell  me. 
It's  mighty  important  in  this  case." 

* '  I  know  it  is.  That 's  why  I  asked.  The  sunken 
submarine  explains  mostly  why  Bulow  and  Com- 
pany want  to  get  rid  of  me.  You  see,  I  had  been 
a  thorn  to  them  for  some  time,  for  I  had  been 
taking  the  spongers '  trade.  They  have  been  load- 
ing vessels  ever  since  the  war  with  such  material 
as  copper,  cotton,  and  rubber.  When  they  could 
not  fool  the  British  by  shipping  through  the 
Netherlands,  they  sent  cargo  subs.  They  adver- 
tised one  coming  to  a  northern  port,  but  that 


FIGHTING  BYNG  237 

was  just  to  cover  more  extensive  operations  down 
here.  Bulow  and  Company  picked  up  the  stuff 
from  all  the  Gulf  ports.  One  was  about  loaded 
out  there  by  the  Tortugas.  Word  was  received 
that  a  Yankee  destroyer  was  coming,  so  she  sub- 
merged to  lay  on  the  bottom  until  it  left.  But  the 
destroyer  was  attracted  to  the  spot  by  the  gulls 
waiting  for  possible  food,  and  let  go  two  or  three 
depth  bombs,  for  luck.  The  sub  never  came  up.  I 
located  her  in  twelve  fathoms  of  water.  You 
know,  a  dive  without  a  suit  lasts  only  four  or  five 
minutes,  and  it  was  a  hard  job  to  get  her  open, 
but  I  did  finally,  and  have  been  taking  copper  from 
her  ever  since.  The  whole  thing  is  there  yet,  dead 
sailors  and  all. 

"When  Bulow  and  Company  learned  that  I 
knew  of  the  wreck  and  suspected  I  was  salvaging 
that  settled  it.  I  had  dangerous  knowledge. 
They  wanted  the  wreck  themselves.  If  I  can  get 
all  that's  in  her  I'll  be  worth  more  money  than  I 
can  ever  use ;  even  a  small  ship  loaded  with  cop- 
per and  rubber  has  an  immense  value.  Now  do 


238  FIGHTING   BYNG 

you  understand  why  they  decided  to  sink  me  with- 
out trace!  I  never  told  little  Jim  just  what  I  was 
doing  because  I  partly  promised  her  I  would  not 
dive  any  more,  since  the  shark  bit  me  on  the  leg 
and  she  saved  me ;  and,  again,  little  Jim  is  so  inno- 
cent and  frank,  as  I  want  her  to  be,  I  was  afraid 
she  might  let  it  out." 

"And  you  thought  Bulow  and  Company  was  too 
strong  for  you,  so  you  never  gave  the  Government 
information ! ' ' 

"Yes,  they  have  been  powerful  enough  to  keep 
me  from  getting  goods  except  in  a  roundabout 
way  and  at  high  prices,  and  have  run  everything 
else  down  here  to  suit  themselves.  They  felt  they 
owned  everything,  and,  as  you  see,  became  very 
bold.  How  could  I,  without  even  a  name,  beat 
them  except  by  strategy?  I  wanted  the  copper 
and  other  things  I  could  salvage,  so  kept  as  quiet 
as  possible. 

"When  little  Jim  told  me  about  a  salesman  from 
a  New  York  house  being  here  I  was  glad,  and  told 
her  to  buy,  but  I  never  fell  for  your  stunt,  though 


FIGHTING   BYNG  239 

I  often  thought  of  you.  I  believed  as  formerly 
Bulow  and  Company  would  prevent  the  shipment 
even  for  cash  in  advance,  they  are  clever  at  man- 
aging such  details  as  that.  I  understand  they 
have  the  Government's  wireless  and  telegrapli 
code  besides  their  own  men  inside  that  ser- 
vice. " 

"But  you  got  the  goods  I  sold  you!" 
"Yes,  every  item.  Little  Jim  says  the  prices 
were  much  better.  And,  more,  the  railroad  did 
something  they  never  did  before — they  stopped 
the  freight  and  unloaded  them  right  at  the  back 
door."  Howard  laughed  outright  for  the  first 
time.  "How  could  I  tell  who  it  was?  But,  as  I 
said,  I  might  have  suspected  something  like  that 
from  you." 

"Howard,  is  this  sunken  submarine  intact?" 
"Yes,  entirely  so  as  far  as  I  can  see.  The  crew 
seems  to  have  died  suddenly.  There  are  two  open- 
ings in  her — one  at  the  conning  tower,  that  lets 
you  into  the  engine  room  and  crew's  quarters,  and 
a  small  hatch,  more  of  a  manhole,  pretty  well 


240  FIGHTING    BYNG 

forward,  which  opens  into  the  freight  hole,  evi- 
dently a  separate  compartment  as  it  had  not  filled. 
The  great  water  pressure  held  it  shut.  I  finally 
got  in.  There  is  wonderful  value  there.  I  don't 
wonder  the  Huns  want  it.  Once  in  the  crew's 
quarters  was  enough.  It  has  filled  and  is  not  a 
very  pleasant  place  to  go.  I  am  used  to  about 
everything  in  the  water  when  sponging,  except 
dead  men.'* 

"How  many  of  the  crew  are  there?" 
"Well— I  counted  about  twenty,  but  there  may 
be  more,  and  if  you  saw  them  you  would  not  think 
they  were  dead.  One  man  stands  up  with  his  eyes 
open  in  a  listening  attitude,  the  wireless  man  is 
before  his  instruments,  and  the  rest  sit  about 
perfectly  natural.  It  seems  as  if  the  captain  knew 
they  were  done  for  and  turned  on  gas  or  some- 
thing that  killed  them  instantly." 

"Howard,  we  can  get  those  bodies,  can't  we?" 
"Yes,  if  we  go  there  fixed  for  it,  but  it  won't 
be  such  a  delightful  job.    I  shut  it  so  the  sharks 
wouldn't  enter." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  241 

*  *  I  must  have  every  one  of  them,  and  every  piece 
of  paper  in  her,  the  cargo  don't  interest  me  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  samples." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WHILE  I  was  willing  and  eager  for  Howard  to 
benefit  to  the  limit  on  the  salvage  there  were  cer- 
tain things  I  must  have  if  they  could  be  found. 

" Howard,"  said  I,  "did  you  find  the  captain's 
strong  box?  There  must  have  been  some  money 
left  if  his  cargo  was  incomplete. ' ' 

"Yes — I  got  one  box.  There  may  be  more,  but, 
as  I  said,  I  can  stay  under  only  four  or  five  min- 
utes, which  is  not  long  to  hunt,  and  dead  Huns 
sitting  around  as  if  they  were  going  to  speak  to 
you  do  not  make  a  very  pleasant  audience,  but  I 
locked  it  down  and  she  is  just  as  clean  as  when 
sunk  and  the  water  is  pretty  cold  there." 

"What  was  in  the  captain's  chest?" 

"Well — considerable  money.  I  have  all  the 
papers  and  will  give  them  to  you." 

242 


FIGHTING  BYNG  243 

"Howard,  why  do  you  never  use  a  diver's  suit 
when  you  go  sponging?  Others  use  them." 

"Yes,  I  know  they  do,  but  I  have  always  worked 
alone.  That  is,  little  Jim  and  I.  In  fact,  I  would 
not  trust  anyone  to  pump  air  to  me  but  her  and 
she  is  not  strong  enough.  However,  I  would  trust 
you  and  I  can  get  an  outfit  to  go  down  for  what 
you  w^arit,  and  maybe  we  can  find  a  way  to  get  the 
stuff  up  faster." 

"I  have  got  to  have  every  scrap  of  evidence  in 
that  wreck.  If  in  getting  that  I  can  help  anyway 
I  will  be  glad.  You  must  bear  in  mind  we  have 
to  be  speedy.  This  man,  Ramund,  and  his  crowd 
being  sent  North  as  prisoners  will  start  some- 
thing. It's  a  fair  bet  that  they  have  influence 
enough  to  be  admitted  to  bail,  the  bank  with  which 
he  is  connected  furnishing  that  in  almost  any  sum. 
They  will  try  to  protect  this  valuable  cargo  laying 
down  there  and  prevent  us  getting  the  evidence 
it  will  yield.  And  the  Huns  will  be  well  prepared 
when  they  come  this  time." 

Howard   meditatively   arose   and   walked   out 


244  FIGHTING  BTNG 

on  the  deck,  but  lie  returned  again  eagerly. 
"This  is  the  off-season  for  sponging.  I  believe 
I  can  charter  a  brand-new  schooner  of  four  or 
five  hundred  tons.  Anti-Kaiser  is  her  name.  She 
has  a  new  and  complete  diving  outfit,  besides 
pumps  and  everything  for  raising  spongers  who 
get  sunk;  she  has  been  coming  here  for  sup- 
plies." 

"How  soon  can  you  know?" 
"To-night  or  to-morrow  morning." 
"That's  settled  then;  get  her  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible.   I  will  see  what  I  can  do  about  getting  a 
gun  or  two  to  mount  on  her,   and  a  gunner. 
Bulow  and  Company  are  not  going  to  lay  down 
so  easy." 

"I  know  where  the  Anti-Kaiser  is  anchored 
and  we  will  go  there  as  soon  as  little  Jim 
comes  back,"  he  replied,  as  only  Howard  Byng 
could,  eager  and  unlimbered,  and  ready  for  big 
game. 

"There  she  is  now — I  thought  it  was  time,"  he 
added,  hearing  her  laughter  as  the  Titian  rounded 
the  point  into  the  little  harbor  and  came  up  to 


FIGHTING    BYNG  245 

the  wharf  beside  us.  Little  Jim  was  sitting  as  a 
queen  surrounded  with  her  marketing — pine- 
apples, bananas,  oranges,  potatoes  and  all  sorts  of 
vegetables,  and  an  immense  armful  of  orange 
blossoms  and  flowers. 

"How  would  New  Yorkers  like  to  go  seventy- 
five  or  a  hundred  miles  to  market?"  he  asked,  as 
we  walked  out  on  the  pier  to  see  the  inspiring 
picture. 

I  did  not  have  time  to  answer  before  she  came 
bounding  toward  her  father  and  at  one  spring 
landed  in  his  arms  with  her  bare  legs  about  his 
waist  and  arms  about  his  neck  kissing  him  joy- 
ously. 

"  Daddy,  did  you  think  I  was  gone  too  long? 
We  came  back  just  as  soon  as  we  could,  but  it 
took  so  long  to  get  all  the  things.  You  were  not 
uneasy,  Daddy?"  she  asked,  kissing  him  several 
times  again. 

"No,  Jim;  when  you  are  with  Don  I  know  yon 
are  safe,  but  Mr.  Wood  and  I  have  an  errand  to 
do  after  supper  and  we  want  to  get  away  as  soon 
as  possible.  Run  with  Don  and  see  what  you  can 


246  FIGHTING  BYNG 

do  quickly,"  he  replied,  returning  her  caresses 
before  letting  her  down. 

"Bight  away,  Daddy,"  she  replied,  scampering 
toward  the  house,  Howard  following  her  with  his 
eyes  until  she  disappeared,  her  knickerbockers 
and  her  short  blouse  reminding  me  of  the  boy  I 
had  thought  her  to  be. 

"Somehow  I  wish  she  were  not  here  to  know 
what  we  will  be  doing,"  he  said,  turning  to  me 
with  a  long  breath,  almost  a  sigh,  fingering  his 
short,  black  beard. 

I  turned  and  faced  him,  deciding  that  right  now 
was  the  proper  time  for  little  Jim  to  realize  her 
dreams.  I  wondered  if  they  could  stand  the 
separation. 

"This  might  be  a  longer  job  than  you  think, 
especially  if  we  were  to  strike  some  continued  bad 
weather  on  the  Gulf." 

"I  know  that,"  he  replied  thoughtfully. 

*  *  The  expense  ceases  to  be  a  factor — why  is  now 
not  the  time  to  begin  with  her  education?"  I  asked 
bluntly. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  247 

He  searched  me  for  a  moment  as  if  it  was  an 
insulting  proposal.  I  knew  he  felt  it  as  a  distinct 
shock. 

"Wood,  I  have  never  allowed  myself  to  think 
of  that  time.  I  am  cowardly,  I  suppose,  and  then 
I  don't  know  where  to  send  her,  yet.  I  don't  be- 
lieve she  would  know  how  to  behave  in  girl's 
clothes.  She  has  always  dressed  as  she  does  now 
and  never  has  craved  the  flub-dubs  and  finery  of 
other  girls.  '* 

"So  much  more  reason  you  should  not  let  her 
go  on  longer  in  this  way.  It  is  time  now  for  her 
to  come  into  her  education  and  the  refinements  of 
young  womanhood. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  know  you  are  right,  but  have  I  got  the 
courage?  I  hate  to  see  her  go  at  all,  especially 
without  a  name.  It's  a  fearful  thing,  Wood. 
And  into  that  country  that  first  treated  me  so  well 
and  then  turned  it  to  dead-sea  fruit.  Nothing  but 
ashes  inside,  bitter,  scalding  ashes." 

"The  world,  that  world,  has  not  finished  with 
you.  Perhaps  it  will  yet  pronounce  you  great. 


248  FIGHTING  BYNG 

You  have  done  pretty  well  toward  retrieving  your- 

£• 
self.     Bitter  thoughts  projected  into  the  world 

are  as  substantial  things  as  poisoned  arrows,  dum- 
dum bullets  or  atrocities,  and  may  eventually  re- 
turn to  plague  us.  If  you  can  still  improve  in 
that  direction  I  predict  big  things  for  you.  Do 
you  understand  me,  Howard?" 

"Wood,  I  comprehend; — a  short  time  ago  I 
would  not.  But  the  difference  between  theory  and 
actual  practice  is  great.  You  give  me  an  awful 
big  order." 

"I  know  it  is,  but  you  have  already  begun  to 
fill  it  without  coaching.  Make  a  mighty  effort — 
such  an  effort  as  only  Howard  Byng  can  make 
and  the  ashes  of  this  dead-sea  fruit  that  you  have 
been  eating  in  pretty  good  quantities,  will  turn 
into  a  tonic  to  spur  you  on  to  more  wonderful 
things — a  magnificent  life.  I  admit  it  is  not  a 
small  thing  to  let  little  Jim  leave  you  now,  but 
it  strikes  me  it  is  a  real  test.  Are  you  going  to 
let  the  bigness  of  Howard  Byng  come  to  the 
front?" 


FIGHTING  BYNG  249 

"I  know  yon  are  right,"  said  he,  walking,  with 
head  down,  down  along  the  pier  toward  his  valu- 
able warehouse,  "maybe  I  just  need  someone 
like  yon  to  prod  and  goad  it  into  me,  to  pnt  a 
rowel  into  my  selfishness  and  make  me  wake  np, 
but — but,  yon  see,  I  don't  know  yet  where  and 
how  to  send  her.  I  have  always  thought  of  taking 
her  myself,  but  there 's  no  time  for  that  now. ' ' 

"Are  yon  willing  to  be  guided  by  me  in  the 
matter?" 

"Wood,  yon  know  I  would  rather  take  advice 
from  you  than  from  any  other  living  person.  And 
why  shouldn  'til  You  always  set  me  right.  Yon 
started  me  right,  but  I  got  away  from  you,  into  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  Anything  you  are  willing 
to  say  yau  know,  I  will  take  at  one  hundred  per 
cent.  In  fact,  I  would  be  mighty  glad  if  you 
could  tell  me  where  to  send  her,  but  I  don't  know 
if  I  can  stand  it  now,"  he  added. 

"I  believe  I  do  know  just  where  to  send  her, 
and  also  just  how  to  get  her  there  safely,  perhaps 
more  so  than  if  yon  went  as  you  have  planned. 


250  FIGHTING  BTNG 

And  I  will  take  the  time  to  tell  you  how  I  hap- 
pened to  know  from  personal  contact.  Let  us  go 
back  in  the  boat  and  sit  down  again." 

He  followed  me  into  the  cabin  and  sat  down 
opposite  where  I  could  study  his  face. 

"Howard,"  I  began  seriously,  "in  order  to 
make  this  plain  to  you  I  must  give  you  some  inside 
information  that  has  not  reached  the  public,  and 
perhaps  it  never  will  officially,  and  for  that  reason 
treat  it  as  ultra-confidential. 

"When  Germany  began  war  on  Europe  it  has 
been  said  and  known  positively  that  it  was  only  a 
question  of  time  when  we  would  be  in  it,  and  that 
no  preparation  was  made  to  meet  that  condition. 
But  a  great  deal  of  work  was  done  that  has  not 
begun  to  show  yet.  It  is  true  that  public  senti- 
ment would  not  support  raising  an  army  and 
equipping  it,  owing  to  such  Hun  stuff  as  'I  Did 
Not  Raise  My  Boy  to  Be  a  Soldier,'  but  other 
things  perhaps  as  important  were  accomplished. 
One  of  them  was  to  determine  just  how  much 
power  the  Hun  had  in  this  country.  The  begin- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  251 

ning  was  made  in  schools  of  all  kinds,  colleges 
and  universities,  in  fact,  every  institution  of  an 
educational  nature. 

"I  put  in  the  best  part  of  two  years  analyzing 
teachers  and  professors  tainted  with  Prussian- 
ism,  whether  it  was  imported  or  domestic.  It  was 
a  rare  experience  and  required  careful  work. 
Directly  or  indirectly,  I  came  in  contact  with  all 
of  them,  and  in  many  cases  visited  the  schools  and 
colleges,  interviewing  professors  and  teachers  un- 
der one  subterfuge  or  another,  and  in  doing  so 
developed  some  valuable  and  astounding  informa- 
tion. It  will  require  a  big  basket  to  hold  the  heads 
that  must  fall  from  this  work.  If  I  had  them  suf- 
ficiently at  ease  and  could  get  them  to  use  the 
words  Kamerad,  Kultur,  and  Middle  Europe,  by 
their  face  and  tone  I  could  tell.  No  one  can  re- 
peat those  words  without  giving  themselves  away, 
if  pro-Hun. 

"Girls'  schools  were  the  hardest  to  get  into 
without  revealing  my  purpose,  which  was  always 
desirable.  A  man  knocking  at  their  gates  was  a 


252  FIGHTING  BYNG 

big  interrogation  point,  but  I  managed  to  see 
about  all  of  them.  Girls  of  to-day  are  mothers  of 
to-morrow,  and  after  all  it's  the  mothers  that 
count,  Howard. 

"I  am  telling  you  this,"  I  went  on,  "expecting 
you  to  grasp  the  inference,  in  order  to  avoid  go- 
ing into  details.  I  found  a  girls'  school,  perhaps 
two  hours  from  New  York,  which  is  an  ideal  place 
for  little  Jim.  The  conditions  are  the  best.  She 
would  be  really  educated,  and  be  as  safe  as  though 
at  home  and  possibly  more  so,  just  now  when  she 
is  advancing  toward  womanhood."  I  paused, 
watching  Howard  closely. 

"But,  Wood,"  he  replied,  with  great  concern, 
"little  Jim  has  always  been  so  free,  wouldn't  it  be 
wrong  to  shut  her  up  in  a  place  like  that?  What 
would  she  do  without  her  flowers  and  being  able 
to  go  about  as  she  pleased?" 

"They  have  immense  grounds,  covered  with  a 
beautiful  forest,  in  which  she  would  be  delighted. 
She  can  roam  at  will  after  school  hours.  Of 
course,  students  can't  leave  the  grounds,  or  rather 


FIGHTING  BYNG  253 

the  estate,  without  escort.  There  are  flowers  in 
greatest  profusion,  everything  to  make  the  place 
attractive.  It  is  the  safest  and  best  I  found  among 
all  that  I  visited.  In  fact,  I  went  back  once  or 
twice  on  a  special  invitation  to  do  a  small  favor." 

"But,  Wood,  she  is  not  ready;  she  has  no 
clothes ;  and  how  can  she  be  sent  there  alone  I "  he 
asked,  as  though  frightened  even  at  a  serious  dis- 
cussion of  the  matter. 

"Well" — I  hesitated,  a  little  excited  myself  at 
the  prospect — "I  think  that  can  be  arranged.  She 
could  be  put  aboard  the  steamer  at  Key  West,  in 
charge  of  someone.  I  will  also  have  one  of  our 
men,  a  friend,  meet  the  boat  in  New  York,  and 
see  personally  that  she  reaches  the  school  abso- 
lutely safe  and  protected  every  moment,  better 
than  you  could  do  it  yourself.  My  friend  in  New 
York  will  actually  see  her  inside  the  gate  and 
make  it  known  that  someone  else  is  interested  in 
her  besides  her  parent  and  that  will  count  for  a 
good  deal." 

"You  make  it  very  plausible,  and— well — let  me 


FIGHTING  BYNG 

sleep  over  it,  and  hear  what  she  says  about  it  in 
the  morning,"  he  replied,  as  we  saw  her  come 
hounding  down  the  pier  like  a  rubber  ball  to  tell 
us  supper  was  ready. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

had  no  trouble  negotiating  for  our  wreck- 
ing boat — the  Anti-Kaiser.  The  owner  was  all 
right,  as  could  be  inferred  by  the  name  of  his  new 
schooner,  a  good  solid  roomy  one,  as  Howard  said, 
fully  equipped  for  deep-sea  sponging  and  light 
wrecking  among  the  spongers  who  lose  their  boats 
occasionally  in  sudden  tropical  storms.  It  did  not 
surprise  me  when  he  told  us  that  he  expected  to 
operate  about  the  Bahamas  when  the  season 
opened  and  didn't  propose  to  take  any  chances. 
He  had  applied  for  a  five-pound  gun  to  mount  aft 
and  a  one-pounder  forward,  and  got  it.  However, 
there  was  no  gunner  and  one  would  have  to  be 
provided. 

Howard  did  not  refer  to  little  Jim  during  the 
255 


256  FIGHTING   BYNG 

evening.  He  was  counting  the  cost — the  effect  on 
her  life  and  his,  the  necessity  of  being  untram- 
meled  in  the  immense  enterprise  we  were  under- 
taking. I  wanted  to  learn  from  Washington  the 
status  of  the  Ramund  case  before  commencing.  I 
went  to  Key  West  in  the  Titian  and  spent  most 
of  the  night  there.  As  I  expected,  Ramund  could 
not  be  refused  bail  much  longer,  but  the  depart- 
ment would  post  me  regarding  his  movements. 
Then  I  ran  into  Ike  Barry  again. 

" Still  fishing,  Ike?" 

"Yes — the  Missus  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer 
and  came  down  a  few  days  ago.  She  is  a  better 
scout  on  the  water  than  I  am.  We're  having  a 
great  time." 

I  remembered  having  met  her  at  Tampa  with 
him  one  time  and  recalled  her  as  a  sweet,  motherly 
woman  who  had  raised  a  splendid  daughter  they 
spoke  of  a  great  deal. 

.  I  found  Scotty  there,  too,  still  out  of  a  job,  go- 
ing about  like  a  fish  out  of  water,  his  face  so  long 
he  was  tramping  on  his  upper  lip,  waiting 


FIGHTING  BYNG  257 

for  his  passport  to  go  back  to  the  British  Navy. 

"Scotty,  didn't  you  tell  me  you  were  a  gunner 
in  the  Royal  Navy  before  you  went  in  the  engine- 
room  ? ' ' 

"I  certainly  was.  Served  two  enlistments,  the 
last  one  as  chief." 

"Then  you  are  just  the  man  I  want." 

He  became  jubilant  and  came  over  to  me 
stronger  than  ever  when  I  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened and  how  he  had  helped  by  delaying  the 
Boche  cutter.  After  another  "drap  of  Scotch" 
he  said  he  would  go  to  hell  for  me. 

I  told  him  what  I  wanted  and  warned  him  that 
it  would  not  be  a  joy  ride,  but  probably  very  dan- 
gerous. 

"If  you've  got  two  guns,  I'd  swim  from  here 
to  the  Tortugas  for  a  chance  at  'em." 

"All  right,  Scotty,  stay  here  till  I  come  for  you 
and  keep  your  eyes  open." 

When  I  got  back  to  "Canby's  bay"  day  was 
breaking.  After  breakfast  I  told  Howard  about 
Scotty  and  what  I  received  from  Washington. 


258  FIGHTING  BYNG 

' 'Even  though  Ramund  and  the  manager  are 
admitted  to  bail,  what  can  they  do  down  here? 
You  have  a  clear  case  against  them, ' '  he  said. 

"None  too  strong,  Howard,  without  little  Jim. 
As  I  see  it,  everything  depends  on  her  testimony. 
Have  you  decided  about  her?" 

"Yes,  I  have,"  he  began,  relieved  when  the 
subject  was  raised.  "We  talked  all  night  about 
it.  For  a  while  she  would  cry  bitterly  and  say  she 
would  never  leave  me  here  alone,  then  for  an  hour 
we  would  be  planning  for  her  to  go,  only  for  her 
to  come  back  and  curl  herself  in  my  lap  and  tear- 
fully declare  she  would  never  leave  me  here  alone. 
We  both  realize  it's  a  turning  point  in  our  lives 
that  requires  courage  and,  Wood,  do  you  know  I 
believe  she  is  the  braver.  Well,  in  the  night 
we  came  to  this  definite  conclusion — that  if  you 
will  help  us  she  will  go  as  soon  as  I  can  get  her 
ready.  Do  you  realize  what  it  means  for  me  to 
part  with  her?  It's  like  tearing  my  heart  and 
soul  out." 

"Howard,  I  believe  I  do,  but  her  safety  is  most 


FIGHTING  BYNG  259 

important  now.  We  may  be  away  a  week  and  you 
can't  leave  her  here." 

"I  know  that,  but  she  has  been  raised  here  on 
the  Keys,  dressed  like  a  boy,  and  has  never  known 
either  girls  or  women.  Just  what  clothing  she 
will  need,  and  how  to  get  it,  is  a  puzzle  to  both 
of  us." 

That  was  a  complication  I  had  overlooked  and 
hesitated  a  moment.  I  thought  of  Mrs.  Ike  Barry. 

"Howard,  a  friend  and  his  wife  are  at  the  hotel 
at  Key  West.  I  believe  she  would  be  glad  to  help 
us  out  and  fix  little  Jim  for  the  trip.  Her  perma- 
nent outfit  and  clothing  it  is  best  to  leave  to  some- 
one with  whom  I  can  arrange  at  the  school. ' ' 

1  'That  sounds  good,  but,  Wood,  I  am  afraid 
that  would  be  loading  you  unduly  with  my  per- 
sonal affairs." 

"You  will  have  ample  opportunity  to  square 
yourself  with  me  before  we  get  through,"  I  re- 
plied, laughing.  "Little  Jim  partly  belongs  to 
me;  besides,  she  has  become  an  important  Gov- 
ernment witness," 


260  FIGHTING  BYNG 

During  the  afternoon  we  brought  the  Anti- 
Kaiser  to  the  nearest  safe  anchorage.  We  put 
aboard  water  and  provisions  for  a  week.  Then, 
in  the  afternoon,  I  went  with  Howard  and  little 
Jim  to  Key  West  to  prepare  her  for  her  journey 
into  a  new  world.  She  acted  at  times  as  though 
moving  in  a  dream,  first  delighted  then  sad  be- 
cause she  was  leaving  her  chum,  teacher,  father, 
— and  such  a  wonderful  father. 

Mrs.  Barry  told  me  afterward  it  was  a  rare 
pleasure  to  select  little  Jim's  outfit  and  clothing, 
to  witness  her  perfect  delight  in  the  first  posses- 
sion of  pretty  things.  Howard  and  I  stood  by  as 
helpless  as  though  run  out  of  gasoline  or  the 
steering  gear  had  gone  wrong.  Little  Jim  evi- 
denced her  femininity.  Motherly  Mrs.  Barry  de- 
lighted her.  She  talked  of  her  and  her  new  things 
all  the  way  home,  when  the  depression  of  parting 
was  not  on  her  mind. 

Going  to  the  wireless  again  I  reported  details. 
Little  Jim  was  a  vitally  important  witness  for  the 
Government  and  all  was  soon  arranged.  Vener- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  261 

able,  fatherly  Henry  Woburn,  a  sort  of  messenger 
of  the  Department,  would  arrive  the  next  day  to 
whisk  her  away  by  rail  to  the  gates  of  the  school 
inside  of  which  she  would  be  safe.  The  school 
took  great  care  of  young  girl  pupils;  an  addi- 
tional caution,  quite  unknown  to  her,  being  exer- 
cised in  her  case  because  of  her  importance  as  a 
Government  witness. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  last  scenes 
between  father  and  daughter  and  the  delightful 
simplicity  with  which  she  bade  me  good-bye.  I 
could  not  if  I  tried.  Both  felt  it  was  a  distinct 
crisis  in  their  lives,  a  turn  in  life's  road  which  was 
separating  them — how  long — and  where  would  it 
leadf  Spiritualists,  soothsayers,  fortune-tellers, 
astrologers,  who  pretend  to  look  even  one  minute 
into  the  future,  are  lying  mountebanks.  They 
would  usurp  infinity.  I  do  know  that  Howard 
Byng's  life,  so  far,  had  been  stormy,  one  of  great 
activity,  but  who  could  say  not  useful.  No 
one  can  fail  to  admire  intense  action,  and  his  in- 
tentions were  good.  His  life  so  far  was  a  wonder 


262  FIGHTING  BYNG 

to  me,  and  I  had  faith  that  such  tremendous  en- 
ergy would  be  utilized  for  the  general  good.  Little 
Jim,  half  of  his  blood,  primitive,  fierce  when 
aroused,  I  at  pure  and  real  red,  the  other  half 
from  the  purposeful,  refined,  delicate  but  no  less 
iron-willed  Norma  Byng  likely  could  not  escape 
the  responsibility  of  its  possession.  Action, 
vital  action,  would  be  expected.  As  now  con- 
stituted she  had  the  simplicity  of  extreme 
childhood,  and  the  knowledge  and  power  of  execu- 
tion of  a  man,  making  a  combination  that  might  be 
difficult  to  balance.  Little  Jim,  now  a  real  girl 
for  the  first  time,  looked  splendid ;  little  Jim,  crack 
rifle  shot  and  unerring  with  the  pistol ;  little  Jim, 
champion  swimmer  and  diver  of  the  Gulf;  little 
Jim,  who  ran  a  big  motor  boat  forty  miles  an  hour 
alone,  who  dynamited  the  Huns'  boat,  made  their 
capture  possible,  and  saved  her  father's  life,  was 
gone,  it  seemed  to  me,  forever. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

SOON  the  Pullman  car  carrying  little  Jim,  my 
star  witness,  was  out  of  sight,  actually  in  the  pro- 
tecting arms  of  Uncle  Sam,  in  the  person  of 
Father  Woburn.  After  getting  Scotty  we  made 
for  home — I  mean  Canby's — as  fast  as  the  Sprite 
would  carry  us.  Howard  was  very  thoughtful 
but  not  depressed.  He  locked  the  store  and 
put  up  a  notice.  We  took  Don  along  to  cook, 
as  we  didn't  want  an  unknown  quantity  in  any 
form  with  us  on  a  mission  of  such  tremendous 
importance. 

The  next  morning  we  anchored  the  Anti-Kaiser 
over  the  spot  where  the  sunken  U-boat  lay.  We 
brought  the  little  Titian  along  with  which  we 
could  run  errands.  Scotty 's  work  consisted  of 

263 


264  FIGHTING  BYNG 

standing  watch  and  looking  out  for  all  kinds  of 
danger,  to  use  the  deck  guns,  and  take  no 
chances. 

It  was  slow  work  getting  started,  though  the 
weather  favored  us.  Howard  was  timid  about  the 
diving  suit  first,  but  finally  grew  confident,  and 
the  fourth  day  without  an  interruption  we  had  all 
the  drowned  crew  in  the  forward  hold,  and  about 
everything  else  loose  of  any  value  in  the  captain's, 
officers'  and  crew's  quarters,  which,  as  I  ex- 
plained, were  separated  by  a  water-tight  bulkhead 
from  the  cargo-hold  forward. 

It  was  a  very  unpleasant,  gruesome  job.  There 
were  twenty-four,  instead  of  a  crew  of  ten  or 
twelve,  of  the  sunken  cargo  sub,  the  name  of  which 
must  remain  covered  until  the  Government  sees 
fit  to  divulge  it.  All  had  to  be  moved  from  a  boat 
in  sixty  feet  of  open  roadstead  water,  searched 
and  photographed  individually  and  in  group,  in 
both  cases  showing  as  much  of  the  faces  as  their 
condition  would  permit.  Arduous,  nauseating 
work  and  we  were  glad  that  it  was  over.  I  thought 


FIGHTING  BYNG  265 

it  would  get  on  Howard's  nerves,  but  they  seemed 
of  iron  again. 

Don  had  gone  with  the  Titian  to  get  mail  and 
telegrams  for  me,  and  possibly  hear  from  little 
Jim.  We  had  eaten  in  the  evening  and  were 
smoking  forward.  Scotty  patrolled  as  lookout 
as  though  serving  on  a  dreadnaught.  Howard 
was  quiet  and  thoughtful.  I  thought  it  was 
because  he  was  tired  and  depressed  after  ran- 
sacking a  wreck  for  dead  Huns  and  having  to 
fight  swarms  of  sharks.  I  was  congratulating 
myself  on  getting  a  lot  of  supplementary  proof 
of  much  importance,  especially  the  records  of  the 
ship  and  the  loading  and  sailing  orders  of  the 
captain. 

' '  Wood, ' '  he  began  quietly.  ' '  How  much  is  that 
vessel  worth;  that  is,  what  would  it  cost  built 
now?" 

"I  don't  know,  Howard;  what  would  you  guess 
her  dead- weight  tonnage?" 

"The  last  time  I  was  down  I  went  all  around 
her.  She  is  over  three  hundred  feet  long  and 


266  FIGHTING  BYNG 

twenty-five  or  thirty-foot  beam,  amidships,  taper- 
ing a  little  toward  each  end. ' ' 

"Perhaps  five  thousand  tons?" 

"I  would  guess  her  that  big  anyway." 

"A  submarine  that  size  cannot  be  built  at  the 
present  time  for  less  than  a  million  dollars;  two 
hundred  dollars  a  dead-weight  ton,  I  think,  is  the 
ruling  price  now." 

"The  Government  wants  submarines  now,  don't 
it?" 

' '  The  Government  wants  all  kinds  of  ships,  any- 
thing that  can  carry  a  ton  of  freight,  Howard," 
I  replied,  looking  at  him  sharply,  but  he  did  not 
answer  for  some  minutes. 

1 1  Supposing  by  any  chance  she  could  be  floated, 
where  would  we  stand  ? ' ' 

"I  am  not  even  an  amateur  authority  on  Ad- 
miralty laws.  Practically,  you  would  have  a 
first-class,  'made-in-Germany'  submarine  to  sell 
the  Government  after  you  had  removed  the  cargo. 
Howard,  do  you — do  you  think  there  is  a  chance  f ' ' 
I  asked,  intensely  interested. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  267 

"I  don't  know.  So  far  as  I  can  see  the  hull, 
the  outside  shell  is  intact.  It  may  be  in  the  rivet 
joints  aft.  I  do  know  that  there  was  no  water  in 
her  freight  hold,  the  inrush  nearly  killing  me 
when  I  finally  got  it  open.  With  the  water  out  of 
there  and  her  submerging  tanks,  she  might  rise." 

"You  think  you  are  right;  the  freight  hold  is 
the  biggest  part?" 

"At  least  two-thirds  and  if  her  submerging 
tanks  are  pumped  out  she  is  bound  to  come  up, 
the  long,  dangerous  work  of  raising  the  cargo 
through  the  water  is  unnecessary  and  the  sharks 
are  pretty  thick,"  he  said,  looking  out  toward  the 
barren  Tortugas,  dotting  the  evening  horizon 
southward.  "And — and  we  would  be  rich,  our 
fortunes  would  be  made." 

"Howard,  why  do  you  use  the  plural?" 

"Because  this  time  you  have  got  to  take  it. 
This  is  to  be  a  fifty-fifty  deal.  You  are  not  going 
to  get  away  from  me  again.  You  told  me  how  to 
get  turpentine  and  rosin  from  stumps  and  then 
walked  away,  leaving  me  to  feel  like  an  ingrate 


268  FIGHTING  BYNG 

for  not  making  you  take  half.  No,  sir,  you  will 
never  have  another  chance  to  serve  me  that  way. 
Half  is  yours  this  time.  You've  got  to  take  it." 

"Howard,  I  understand  the  spirit  that  moves 
you.  I  am  glad  your  big,  generous  heart  is  work- 
ing again  normally,  but  there  are  two  good  rea- 
sons why  you  must  count  me  out.  First,  by  reason 
of  my  employment,  it  is  forbidden,  absolutely  for- 
bidden, and  again,  I  have  no  interest  either  by  dis- 
covery or  recovery.  Keep  it — keep  it  for — little 
Jim.  She  did  it  all  when  she  swam  under  water 
and  hung  a  'terror*  to  the  Hun's  bow." 

**I  can  recall  that  I  accepted  such  a  plea  twice 
and  felt  like  a  dog  for  doing  so.  I  tell  you,  you 
are  not  going  to  get  away  from  me  this  time. 
There  will  be  plenty,  but,  if  there  wasn't " 

"Don't  bother  about  that  now,  Howard,"  I  in- 
terrupted, "plenty  of  time  to  count  the  chickens 
after  they  are  hatched.  I  can  see  Don  coming. 
Four  days  is  a  long  time  to  be  out  of  the  world, ' ' 
I  said,  glad  to  change  the  subject.  I  was  elated 
that  there  was  a  prospect  of  floating  the  U-boat 


FIGHTING  BYNG  269 

that  told  such  a  vital  story.  What  more  glory  did 
I  need  than  to  have  been  even  indirectly  respon- 
sible! 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

DON  had  an  armful  of  dailies  for  me  that  had 
accumulated  and  a  single  wireless,  which  was 
laconic  enough — 

"Come  to  wireless  station.'* 

It's  frequently  the  short  order  that  gives  one  a 
long  jump,  it  being  an  all-night  job  to  the  station 
and  back.  Howard  had  received  a  letter  from 
little  Jim.  He  was  pleased  but  puzzled,  laboring 
with  its  translation.  Little  Jim  had  received  her 
total  education  from  him  so  far  and  had  had  little 
practice  in  letter  writing. 

"She  arrived  there  all  right,"  he  volunteered, 
continuing  to  read. 

"She  had  a  reliable  escort.  Father  Woburn  is 
just  as  sure  as  he  is  mild  and  gentlemanly,"  I 
ventured,  absorbing  his  delight. 

270 


FIGHTING  BYNG  271 

"I  think  she  does  fine  for  one  who  has  never 
tried  to  write,  but  she  is  a  little  hard  to  make  out. 
Read  it  to  me,  perhaps  you  can  better  understand 
just  what  she  means,"  said  he,  handing  me  a  let- 
ter of  several  pages  as  we  sat  on  the  deck  facing 
the  setting  sun,  with  our  feet  on  the  rail.  I  first 
glanced  over  it,  then  began  to  read : 

"DEAR  DADDY: 

"We  got  here  all  right  or  I  would  not  be  able 
to  write.  At  first  I  was  scared  but  Mr.  Woburn 
was  so  nice  that  I  soon  began  to  like  it,  I  mean 
the  cars  and  the  towns  we  went  through.  In  the 
evening  we  got  to  Jacksonville  and  then  after 
eating  supper  I  had  to  go  to  bed.  It  seemed  so 
funny  to  sleep  in  that  little  place  while  the  train 
runs  so  fast.  My  new  clothes  were  so  much 
bother,  I  wished  I  had  my  regular  clothes — they 
arc  so  much  quicker — but  I  suppose  it  will  be  a 
long  time  before  I  get  them  again. 

"The  next  morning  we  were  at  Richmond — Mr. 
Woburn  told  me  these  names — then  Washington, 


272  FIGHTING   BYNG 

so  much  more  beautiful  than  anything  you  ever 
told  me  about,  then  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia. 
We  did  not  go  to  New  York,  but  I  am  going  there 
to-morrow  with  one  of  my  teachers  to  get  the 
clothes  and  things  I  need  for  school.  It  does  not 
begin  for  two  weeks,  and  I  and  another  girl  are 
the  only  ones  here  now  ahead  of  time.  It  is  in  a 
great  big  woods,  a  beautiful  place.  Mr.  Woburn 
came  clear  up  here  with  me  and  talked  with  the 
principal.  He  said  that  because  I  knew  Mr.  Wood 
we  would  get  along  fine,  but  I  must  never  go  out 
alone.  A  teacher  who  I  like  and  plays  music  I  can 
listen  to  all  day  will  go  with  me.  She  says  I  can 
write  to  you  every  day  and  I  will.  Tell  Mr.  Wood 
if  he  is  there  yet  that  I  love  him  almost  as  much 
as  I  do  you,  Daddy.  I  hope  you  don't  miss  me 
as  I  do  you.  Tell  Don  his  cooking  is  the  best,  but 
maybe  I  will  get  used  to  the  kind  we  have  here. 
I  must  go  to  bed  now.  My  room  is  a  great,  big 
long  one  and  my  teacher  uses  the  other  end  of  it, 
and  tells  me  everything  I  want  to  know.  She 
knows  so  much  about  everything. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  273 

"She  says  that  nobody  knows  what  our  first 
name  is  here  but  the  registrar,  and  you  must  get 
used  to  me  signing  my  name, 
"Miss  CANBY, 

"With  lots  of  love." 

When  I  stopped  reading  Howard  laughed  out- 
right, arose  and  rubbed  his  hands,  then  slapped 
me  on  the  back. 

"That  sounds  to  me  just  as  though  little  Jim 
were  talking.  Now  I  feel  sure  and  am  satisfied. 
I  can  fight  wild  cats,  a  buzz-saw,  or  all  the  Huns.*' 
Then,  sobering  some,  he  sauntered  down  the  deck 
and  returned  to  where  I  sat,  still  holding  little 
Jim's  letter,  said  soberly,  "Wood,  again  I  am 
indebted  to  you.  I  don't  believe  I  could  ever  have 
accomplished  it,  so  well  and  quickly.  Somehow, 
now  that  she  is  away  and  in  safe  hands,  I  am 
greatly  relieved." 

"You  give  me  undue  credit.  I  am  glad  little 
Jim  is  safe,  but  a  double  purpose  robs  me  of 
credit.  The  way  things  now  stand  we  could  not 


274  FIGHTING  BYNG 

prove  our  case  without  little  Jim's  testimony. 
My  unsupported  evidence  would  be  strained  to 
prove  the  Hun  boat  fired  through  your  boat  while 
you  were  diving.  For  that  reason  they  may  be 
interested  in  getting  her  out  of  the  way.  That's 
why  Father  Woburn  was  sent.  Even  if  they  do 
learn  where  she  is  they  have  a  better  chance  at 
heaven — and  you  know  that  is  nil — than  to  get 
her  now. ' ' 

"I  don't  care  how  many  purposes  you  have," 
replied  Byng.  "I  know  that  your  main  one  is 
patriotic  or  humanitarian.  I  have  benefited  so 
often,  I  know.  I  would  indeed  be  selfish  if  not 
willing  to  render  service  in  return.  With  little 
Jim  safe,  you  can  use  my  body,  my  life  for  any 
purpose." 

"Well,  it  may  come  to  that.  We  all  must  take 
big  chances;  in  a  way,  literally  play  tag  with 
death.  The  best  elements  of  the  world  must  pre- 
vail. A  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  a  great  man 
predicted  that  the  hope  of  the  world  lay  in  the 
western  hemisphere.  We  are  face  to  face  now 


FIGHTING  BYNG  275 

with  fulfilling  the  Will  of  God  and  the  wonderful 
prophecy  which  anyone  can  understand  now.  Our 
men  and  millions  are  being  used  to  restore  na- 
tional conscience,  simple  normal  regard  for  con- 
tracts and  women.  The  flat  poison  head  of  mor- 
ganatic marriages  and  degeneracy  must  go  under 
the  heel  of  justice.  You  and  I  will  win  here.  You 
will  then  be  rich  in  money.  And  when  it  is  over 
I  may  make  another  request  that  will  stretch  our 
friendship." 

"Wood,  it  can't  be  done.  I  can't  conceive  of 
you  asking  a  favor  I  would  not  grant.  It  isn  't  in 
you." 

"Howard,  you  overestimate  me.  I  do  believe 
mistakes  normal  and  believe  in  everyone  alike 
whose  intentions  are  good.  You  and  I  have  had 
three  or  four  days  of  unpleasant  work  and  we  are 
now  on  a  floating  morgue  filled  by  your  resource- 
fulness and  boldness.  It  takes  daring  courage, 
and  disregard  of  life  to  go  down  among  the  sharks 
to  get  dead  Huns.  Before  we  get  away  from 
here  greater  valor  will  be  required,  for  our  pur- 


276  FIGHTING  BYNG 

pose  is  indeed  ambitious ;  but  I  don 't  believe  you 
can  possibly  exhibit  more  greatness  than  you  did 
that  night  on  Alligator  Island  a  long  time  ago — 
our  first  real  adventure." 

Howard  stopped  in  his  tracks  as  though  trans- 
fixed, staring  at  me  as  though  suddenly  passing 
into  delirium.  Undaunted,  I  went  ahead. 

"Howard,  I  believed  in  that  little  girl  you  car- 
ried out  that  morning  in  your  arms,  then  no  bigger 
or  older  than  little  Jim,  and  I  believe  in  her  yet. 
I  believe  at  that  time  she  began  to  trust  you,  and 
I  believe  she  still  trusts  you." 

He  stood  still  near  me,  his  face  twitched  and 
again  there  gathered  in  his  eyes  that  fierceness  of 
the  Georgia  Cracker  when  enraged,  his  hands 
seemed  in  readiness  to  tear  me  to  pieces.  I  arose 
and  faced  him.  Notwithstanding  his  powerful 
physique,  I  towered  above,  determined  to  break 
silence  on  that  subject  again,  feeling  he  would  be 
better  for  it. 

It  was  a  silent  battle  of  man  against  man, 
where  neither  flinched.  It  took  time,  but  finally 


FIGHTING  BYNG  277 

he  hung  his  head  and  moved  slowly  away.  Turn- 
ing toward  me,  he  said  in  a  voice  so  hollow  and 
strained  it  might  have  come  from  the  grave, 
4 'Wood — you — you  don't  seem  to  know  I — I  saw 

— I — I  heard.  There  is  no  mistake "  Then 

with  a  slight  trace  of  a  plea,  he  added,  "I  know." 

"Howard,  no  man  ever  lived  in  whom  I  believe 
more  sincerely.  On  the  other  hand,  by  virtue  of 
my  occupation,  I  have  to  know.  My  superiors  are 
not  much  impressed  with  'will-o'-the-wisps'  or 
'matters  ignis  fatuus.'  I  must  rationally  and 
sanely  know  things  and  I  feel  so  strong  on  this 
matter  that  I  request,  almost  demand  that  you, 
after  we  are  through  here,  make  some  effort  to 
find  her  in  order  to  confirm  what  you  so  sincerely 
believe  true.  Fifteen  years  often  changes  us.  I 
think  it  has  changed  you.  You  owe  it  to  yourself 
—and  little  Jim.  It  will  not  be  so  difficult,  for 
Ramund  is  obtainable  now." 

"It  is  unnecessary,  Wood — I  know  I  am  right. 
But  I  am — I  was  glad  when  you  told  me  you 
thought  she  was  a — good  woman  now.  I  hate  to 


278  FIGHTING  BYNG 

think  of  little  Jim's  mother  being  bad,"  he  added 
so  faintly  I  could  hardly  hear.  It  was  a  great 
struggle.  Such  a  man  as  Fighting  Byng  bends 
slowly,  but  how  wonderful  that  they  bend  at  all. 
I  thought  it  best  to  drop  the  subject  for  the 
present. 

"Howard,  I  must  go  to  the  wireless  station  to 
get  in  touch  with  Washington.  It  will  likely  take 
all  night.  Do  you  feel  safe  here  without  me?" 

"I  don't  see  why  not.  The  little  Scotch  gunner 
and  I  can  changa  watches  during  the  night.  Did 
you  get  any  news  ? ' ' 

"Being  called  to  the  wireless  is  significant  of 
something  new." 

"What's  the  war  news?"  struggling  to  recover 
himself. 

"The  general  situation  appears  dark  just 
now." 

"How  is  that — just  what  do  you  mean?"  he 
inquired  anxiously. 

1 '  To  make  it  short,  the  Hun  has  Europe  whipped 
to  a  standstill,  with  Kussia  delivered  to  the  enemy 


FIGHTING  BYNG  279 

by  a  Judas  Iscariot.  The  Boche  does  not  believe 
we  will  ever  take  the  place  of  the  Kussian  Army. 
He  doesn't  think  we  can  or  will  really  fight,  and, 
of  course,  is  making  his  last  colossal  mistake.  But 
just  now  his  chest  is  away  out.  He  is  bold  and 
impudent  and  a  little  more  irrational  than  usual. 
For  that  reason  I  would  not  be  surprised  to  see 
some  such  thing  reflected  in  these  parts  unless 
we  are  unusually  lucky.  I  feel  like  advising  ex- 
treme caution — but  I  will  know  more  when  I  get 
back  from  the  wireless  station,"  I  added,  watch- 
ing Howard  closely. 

""Wood — I  can  only  repeat  what  I  have  said — 
now  I  believe  little  Jim  is  safe  from  harm,  besides 
I  have  placed  her  beyond  want.  I  will  fight  with 
you  as  long  as  there's  an  ounce  of  Georgia  blood 
left  in  me." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHEN  I  got  in  touch  with  Washington  I  was 
told  that  the  matter  I  had  in  hand  became  unex- 
pectedly, stupendously  important,  in  fact,  so  vital 
I  was  urged  to  use  the  utmost  care,  but  to  rush 
as  fast  as  possible.  The  importance  of  the  Canby 
girl  as  a  witness  was  realized  and  she  was 
guarded  every  moment  by  one  of  unquestioned 
loyalty  and  discretion,  and  plenty  of  khaki  that 
seemed  accidental. 

This  pleased  me  immensely,  for  more  than  one 
reason.  But  the  other  information  was  not  so 
reassuring.  Ramund  and  the  manager  had  been 
admitted  to  bail  in  the  sum  of  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  each.  Rash  and  risky  conduct  could  be 
looked  for  on  the  part  of  the  Boches  and  I  must 

280 


FIGHTING   BYNG  281 

not  underestimate  their  resourcefulness.  Though 
yet  unpublished,  it  was  known  that  Bernstorff  had 
deflorated  and  daily  ravished  diplomatic  virginity 
in  a  most  brutal  and  conscienceless  manner  so 
truly  Hun. 

I  informed  them  a  private  party  had  hold  of 
the  wreck,  that  through  him  I  had  in  my  posses- 
sion twenty-four  bodies,  together  with  a  mass  of 
evidence  and  asked  for  some  kind  of  an  armed 
vessel  to  protect  Howard's  ambitious  efforts  to 
float  and  bring  in  intact.  They  said  they  would 
do  the  best  they  could,  every  available  vessel  hav- 
ing been  sent  to  fight  submarines. 

I  returned  to  the  wrecking  operations  at  the 
Tortugas  doubtful  of  immediate  protection. 

Howard  was  on  watch  and  very  glad  to  see  me, 
and  delighted  that  the  Government,  too,  was 
watching  little  Jim. 

"Have  you  been  up  all  night  I"  he  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"Yes." 

"I'll  have  Don  get  breakfast;  then  you  sleep. 


282  FIGHTING  BYNG 

We  will  get  everything  ready.  I  want  to  go  down 
to  make  one  more  careful  examination  of  the 
wreck  in  order  to  finally  decide  on  a  plan  of  action, 
but  I  believe  I  have  figured  it  out  during  the 
night. " 

"Breakfast,  yes.  Sleep  I  can  do  without  until 
to-night."  I  did  not  tell  him  about  the  necessity 
of  haste. 

After  breakfast  he  went  dow^n  and  remained  two 
hours.  He  had  scarcely  discarded  his  diving  suit 
before  I  saw  he  was  jubilant. 

"Wood, — I  believe  now  it's  only  a  case  of  mak- 
ing pump  connections  to  the  freight  hold  and  get 
the  water  out  of  there  first.  I  still  believe,  if  we 
pump  out  the  submerging  tanks  after  that,  she  has 
got  to  come  to  the  top  even  if  the  engine-room  and 
crew's  quarters  aft  are  injured,"  he  said  enthusi- 
astically. 

"How  do  you  know  the  submerging  tanks  are 
intact  and  water  tight?" 

"Can't  find  a  trace  of  anything  wrong  I  cannot 
fix  with  little  trouble." 


FIGHTING  BYNG  288 

I  knew  it  was  not  an  amateur  talking.  He  had 
been  able  to  do  anything  with  machinery  of  a 
hydraulic  nature,  his  paper-mill  experience  being 
largely  along  that  line.  Besides,  he  had  spent  the 
last  fifteen  years  in  and  about  the  water  with 
practical  knowledge  of  marine  machinery  and 
pumps. 

He  rested  a  short  while  and  went  down,  this 
time  with  tools  he  thought  he  needed,  and  in  an- 
other two  hours  the  full  engine  force  of  the  Anti- 
Kaiser  was  drawing  the  water  out  of  the  freight 
hold.  Howard  descended  repeatedly  to  see  that  it 
continued  to  work  properly. 

Scotty  stood  watch  continuously  during  the  day, 
scanning  every  sail  or  smoke  that  came  within 
range  of  his  glasses.  We  all  prayed  for  good 
weather.  A  storm  such  as  they  have  in  the  Gulf 
occasionally  would  be  very  bad,  but  that  was  a 
risk  we  had  to  take. 

Howard  induced  a  big  sponger,  a  friend  of  his, 
to  bring  supplies  of  all  sorts.  After  twenty-four 
hours  of  steady  pumping  the  hold  was  cleared. 


284  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Howard  said  the  wreck  had  righted  itself  slightly. 

During  this  time  Don  and  I  disposed  of  the 
Hun  bodies  a  long  way  from  the  scene  of  our 
operations,  for  obvious  reasons. 

Then  came  the  more  delicate  work  of  pumping 
out  the  submerging  tanks  of  the  wreck.  If  this 
could  not  be  done  our  work  would  fail,  but  Howard 
was  confident  and  labored  almost  like  a  super- 
man. He  said  he  was  now  as  familiar  with  the 
engine-room  of  the  sunken  sub  as  the  man  who 
made  it,  and  was  certain.  It  took  six  hours  to  get 
satisfactory  connections  and  again  the  pumps 
were  started. 

After  pumping  three  hours  on  the  submerging 
tanks,  Howard  dived  again,  tremendously  anxious. 
He  remained  below  some  time  before  coming  up, 
clearly  disappointed.  The  pumping  so  far  had 
failed  to  show  the  slightest  results. 

"It's  got  to  come,  Wood;  it's  got  to  come;  but, 
damn  it,  it  don't  come,"  he  fumed,  speeding  up 
the  pumps  to  the  last  ounce  of  the  Anti-Kaiser's 
powerful  engines. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  285 

"Hit  it  for  three  hours  more,  then  you  can  tell 
better.  We  may  expect  results  tqo  soon,"  seeing 
the  canker  of  doubt  at  work.  He  realized  fully 
what  a  failure  meant,  stupendous  service  to  his 
country,  his  fortune  and  the  opportunity  to  re- 
sume the  name  of  Howard  Byng,  and  place  little 
Jim  right  before  the  world,  all  hung  in  the  balance. 
Who  could  have  stood  such  a  strain  and  retained 
power  of  judgment  or  even  sanity. 

I  watched  him  closely  the  next  three  hours. 
The  pangs  of  hell  could  have  gripped  no  man 
harder.  He  stood  by  the  pumps  and  engines  com- 
pelling by  sheer  force  of  will  the  last  atom  of 
effort  in  the  combination  of  steel,  brass  and  fuel. 

Then  he  donned  the  diving  suit  somewhat  as  a 
man  going  to  his  execution,  but  hoping  for  a  re- 
prieve at  the  last  moment,  though  with  magnifi- 
cent will  he  continued  to  lash  the  straining  pumps, 
and  they  seemed  to  actually  speed  up  under  the 
fierce  compelling  gaze,  as  he  went  over  the  side  to 
go  down  to  pronounce  his  own  doom. 

He  had  been  on  the  bottom  but  a  short  time 


286  FIGHTING  BYNG 

when  he  signaled  to  "haul  up."  I  will  agree 
while  we  were  doing  so  were  anxious  moments; 
we  were  not  to  remain  in  doubt  long.  Even  be- 
fore he  could  get  his  suit  off  he  waved  his  arms, 
and  I  knew  he  was  again  Howard  Byng,  resource- 
ful, successful,  exultant. 

He  almost  tore  off  the  diving  suit  after  I  un- 
fastened it.  Scotty  and  Don  sensed  excitement 
and  all  crowded  about  him. 

" She's  coming — she's  coming,"  he  shouted; 
"her  bow  is  now  three  feet  from  the  bottom  and 
her  stern  is  almost  clear.  She's  ours!  She's 
ours!  She  must  have  a  heavier  line  fastened  to 
her  bow  or  the  tide  will  carry  her  away  enough 
to  break  our  pump  connections,"  he  added  breath- 
lessly. "She  is  ours,  boys ;  the  Hun  is  ours !  The 
world  is  ours!"  he  again  shouted,  the  strain  end- 
ing in  delirious  joy.  Then,  running  to  the  bow 
of  the  Anti-Kaiser,  he  grabbed  the  end  of  a  two- 
inch  hawser,  scorned  the  diving  suit,  and  went 
over  the  side  like  a  porpoise  or  a  sea-lion  into  its 
natural  element. 


- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  287 

I  paid  out  the  line  to  liiin.  In  a  moment  more 
he  had  made  it  fast  to  the  bow  of  the  Boche  sub, 
and  was  coining  rapidly  up  the  line  hand  over 
hand,  like  an  orang-outang. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ALL  that  night  the  pumps  driven  by  the  engines 
of  the  Anti-Kaiser  worked  with  unerring  cer- 
tainty, and  appeared  to  feel  the  important  work; 
every  exhaust,  powerful  and  distinct,  pronouncing 
a  new  life,  a  new  ambition,  a  wonderful  achieve- 
ment for  Fighting  Howard  Byng. 

After  daylight  we  could  visualize  results.  Be- 
low we  could  easily  distinguish  what  seemed  a 
rather  nebulous,  long,  dark  shadow  in  the  sea. 
Howard  went  down  and  found  that  the  U-boat  was 
raising  at  the  rate  of  a  foot  per  hour,  and  a  total 
of  sixty  hours  would  be  required  before  it  would 
reach  the  surface. 

Now  new  troubles  threatened.  The  weather 
that  had  so  graciously  favored  us  for  almost  a 
week  looked  ominous.  Howard,  who  knew  all 

288 


FIGHTING   BYNG  289 

about  Gulf  weather,  scanned  the  sky  and  shook 
his  head. 

"I  believe  we  are  in  for  it.  But  the  way  we're 
anchored  now  our  bow  is  all  right.  It's  going  to 
come  from  out  there,"  he  said,  pointing  toward 
the  northwest. 

Another  anchor  was  carried  out  and  every  pre- 
caution taken  while  the  pumps  still  chugged  with 
perfect  rhythm,  and  gloriously  labored  toward  the 
goal  for  which  we  prayed.  The  U-boat  now  hung 
in  suspension  in  the  clear  Gulf  water,  and  was 
slowly  but  surely  raising  to  our  will,  but  should 
the  hose  connection  break,  having  no  check  valve, 
it  would  immediately  fill  and  sink.  Everyone  was 
alert  and  strained  for  the  emergency.  Additional 
hawsers  lashed  it  fore  and  aft  to  the  Anti- 
Kaiser  to  guard  against  being  shifted  by  sub- 
marine currents  that  mysteriously  form  during 
storms. 

It  finally  came,  a  veritable  hurricane,  lasting, 
fortunately,  only  about  five  hours.  Wind  sixty 
miles  per  hour  brought  solid  sheets  of  water, 


290  FIGHTING  BYNG 

twisting  and  undulating  as  if  to  wreak  vengeance 
and  try  our  hearts. 

During  the  storm  Howard  moved  about  con- 
stantly, solemn  and  determined,  examining  every 
detail,  forcing  the  pumps  to  unflinching  perform- 
ance by  sheer  power  of  his  adamant  will  though 
the  storm  raged. 

I  do  actually  believe  machinery,  commonly 
thought  to  be  inanimate,  answers  to  a  strong  will, 
literally  driven  to  good  behavior  and  specific  per- 
formance by  the  silent,  fierce,  compelling  deter- 
mination and  psychic  force  of  the  man  in  control. 
Locomotives  are  especially  so  sensitive,  proven  by 
thousands  of  authentic  instances. 

Scotty,  like  the  perfectly  trained  naval  mari- 
ner, also  defied  the  storm  and  for  no  moment 
ceased  his  patrol  on  the  deck,  peering  for  dan- 
gers approaching  through  the  angry  whirling 
sheets. 

The  sea  calmed,  as  did  our  nervous  strain,  with- 
out a  mishap,  and  the  work  of  the  pumps  went 
merrily  on,  at  no  time  halting  a  part  of  a  second, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  291 

as  if  defying  the  elements  to  defeat  them  in  their 
patriotic  and  useful  purpose. 

Near  sundown  Howard  wanted  to  descend  and 
examine  the  wreck  at  close  range.  I  began  on  the 
hand  air-pump  again  which  had  to  move  with  the 
precision  and  regularity  of  respiration.  It  would 
become  tiresome  if  one  did  not  know  that  such 
rhythm  were  necessary  to  a  human  life  below.  In 
this  case  I  believed  a  most  wonderful  life. 

He  stayed  down  a  long  time,  but  when  he  came 
up  he  was  more  exultant  and  jubilant  than  ever 
before. 

"Wood,  in  the  better  light  I  have  been  exam- 
ining her  hull  for  breaks,  both  inside  and  outside, 
and  for  the  life  of  me  I  can  find  nothing  wrong. 
I  believe  the  bombs  simply  put  their  air  or  water 
pumps  out  of  commission.  That 's  why  they  were 
trapped  down  there.  She  is  raising  now  on  an 
almost  even  keel.  She  is  ours,  Wood ;  she  is  ours, 
and  she  will  float  as  good  as  ever  when  the  water 
is  all  out!"  he  urged  with  the  vehemence  of  a  man 
who  was  told  he  could  live  and  return  to  a  con- 


292  FIGHTING   BYNG 

genial  sphere  into  the  great  world  of  usefulness 
with  his  name  again.  A  name  and  fortune  for  lit- 
tle Jim,  whom  he  loved  so  consumingly  and  singly 
that  she  was  a  part  of  him — his  blood,  his  child, 
his  chum  and  companion. 

His  enthusiasm  was  contagious;  I  got  it.  Be- 
sides, I  exulted  on  my  own  account.  To  bring 
such  tangible  evidence  into  a  court  of  law  and 
the  world's  tribunal  of  such  stupendous  impor- 
tance raised  my  operations  to  a  magnitude  un- 
equaled,  and  must  without  effort  attract  atten- 
tion of ' '  The  All  Highest. ' '  I  had  developed  from 
two  warrants  for  minor  offenses  a  matter  in  which 
the  whole  world  was  intensely  interested.  With 
these  ruminations  came  the  thought  of  safety. 
We  had  the  Hun  boat.  We  could  see  it.  Another 
day  and  its  conning  tower  would  be  out,  and  an- 
other ought  to  enable  us  to  tow  her  away.  And 
we  were  insufficiently  protected. 

"Howard,  we  must  not  depend  on  the  protec- 
tion of  the  guns  on  this  boat.  Too  much  is  at 
stake.  We  should  have  a  patrol  that  will  prevent 


FIGHTING  BYNG  298 

any  boat  or  vessel  coming  within  at  least  throe 
miles.  The  Titian  is  too  small.  Your  Sprite 
would  be  the  thing.  She  is  big  enough  to  mount 
the  five-pound  gun  to  enforce  such  a  limit  to  all 
vessels." 

"How  are  we  going  to  get  her;  she  is  anchored 
in  the  bay  at  home." 

"Can  the  old  darkey,  Don,  run  the  Sprite, 
do  you  think?" 

"Yes,  almost  as  well  as  I  can." 

"I  have  been  out  of  touch  with  Washington  now 
for  nearly  forty-eight  hours,  and  should  go  to 
Key  West  to  get  a  line  on  what  is  happening. 
Suppose  I  take  him  in  the  little  Titian,  call  at 
Canby's,  leave  him  to  bring  the  Sprite,  and  go  on 
to  Key  West.  I  ought  to  be  back  here  in  three  or 
four  hours." 

"Fine,  but  put  the  juice  to  the  Titian;  she  can 
fly  if  you  give  her  the  gas.  You're  right:  we 
ought  to  have  the  Sprite  to  patrol  and  also  ought 
to  know  what  the  Boche  is  up  to  outside,  if  any- 
thing," he  agreed  quickly. 


294  FIGHTING  BYNG 

During  the  night  the  pumps  worked  unceasingly 
with  a  punch  and  force,  imparted  by  Howard's 
care  and  vigilance.  As  the  last  word  in  Boche 
submarine  ships  came  nearer  the  surface,  he 
seemed  to  actually  scorn  either  sleep  or  rest  and 
took  his  food  while  walking  about  vigilantly.  He 
realized  it  was  a  supreme  moment.  Energies  he 
had  stored  by  a  comparatively  quiet  existence  for 
years  he  used  unstintingly. 

Before  daylight  the  next  morning  I  took  Don  in 
the  Titian  to  Canby's,  saw  him  on  his  way  from 
there  with  the  Sprite,  then  rushed  to  Key  West 
and  established  communication  at  once  with  the 
powers  that  be. 

I  was  told  that  every  branch  of  the  Government 
was  intensely  interested  in  the  development  which 
bade  fair  to  uncover  craven,  cringing  Mexico  and 
many  traitorous,  treasonable  concerns  protected 
by  citizenship,  and  was  enjoined  to  great  care  and 
secrecy. 

Then  I  asked  to  have  at  least  two  marines  de- 
tached from  the  special  guard  service  in  Key 


FIGHTING  BYNG  295 

West  for  my  use  as  I  was  short  of  man  power  on 
which  I  could  depend. 

For  this  they  gave  the  necessary  order.  They 
wirelessed  me  that  Ramund  and  three  others,  upon 
being  released  on  bail,  had,  after  a  day  or  two, 
taken  an  evident  underground  rail  route  to  Mex- 
ico. The  Government  agents  were  out  of  touch 
with  Washington,  owing  to  difficulties  furnished 
by  Mexican  conditions.  The  Boches  were  forfeit- 
ing their  bail,  or  up  to  deviltry,  or  both. 

This  bit  of  information  did  not  please  me,  for  I 
saw  disturbing  possibilities.  I  picked  up  the  daily 
papers,  mail  and  the  two  marines,  and  hurried 
back  to  the  Tortugas,  which  I  reached  about  noon 
time  by  forcing  the  Titian  to  her  limit. 

The  marines  were  lusty  fellows,  full  of  ginger. 
Yes,  they  both  had  had  target  gun  practice.  I  was 
glad  of  that. 

The  five-pound  gun  was  quickly  transferred  to 
the  deck  of  Howard's  Sprite.  We  put  Scotty, 
who,  of  course,  was  an  expert  with  motor-driven 
boats,  and  one  of  the  marines  aboard  her  with 


296  FIGHTING  BYNG 

instructions  to  encircle  constantly  our  operations, 
at  a  three-mile  limit,  to  use  the  gun  to  prevent 
vessels  of  any  character  approaching  us.  The 
other  marine  was  put  in  Scotty's  place  on  the 
Anti-Kaiser  and  I  felt  pretty  safe.  So  did 
Howard. 

Wonderful  progress  was  made  while  I  was 
away.  The  conning  tower  was  all  out  and  the 
oval  back  of  the  submarine  was  awash.  Howard 
was  haggard,  but  walking  on  air.  He  had  calcu- 
lated that  before  night  the  submerging  tanks 
would  be  empty,  then  we  could  transfer  the 
pumps  to  the  engine-room  and  crew's  quarters 
aft.  It  wouldn't  take  long  to  make  her  fit  for 
towing. 

About  dusk  Scotty  came  in  for  food,  and  said 
he  would  be  willing  to  stay  out  on  the  Sprite  pa- 
trolling until  midnight,  and  then,  if  relieved  for 
four  hours,  would  resume. 

Just  before  dark  Howard  did  transfer  the  pump 
to  the  after  hold,  the  engine-room  and  crew's 
quarters  and  it  began  throwing  a  merry  stream, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  297 

every  throb  bringing  us  nearer  the  end  of  our 
task  and  goal. 

I  tried  to  get  Howard  to  sleep  some,  but  he  only 
laughed. 

"When  we  are  through  I  will  have  months  to 
sleep." 

I  did  not  tell  him  what  a  filthy  condition  existed 
in  Mexico,  and  how  long  it  would  be  before  we 
would  be  compelled  to  put  the  cleaner  on  her.  She 
was  pro-Hun  to  the  core  and  somehow  I  did  not 
like  the  fact  that  Ramund  was  there  nowr  and  only 
a  day  or  two  sail  from  us. 

Darkness  had  set  in  with  a  cloudy  sky.  Every- 
thing went  well  until  about  time  for  Scotty  to 
report  at  midnight  wrhen  the  marine  on  guard 
saw  something  over  the  port  bow ;  it  looked  like  a 
vessel  coming,  without  lights. 

"What  do  you  think  it  is?"  Howard  asked  anx- 
iously. 

"I  can't  make  out  but  it's  something  and  it's 
getting  plainer.  I  wonder  where  Scotty  is  with 
the  Sprite?"  The  marine  stood  at  attention  by 


298  FIGHTING  BYNG 

the  side  of  the  one-pounder  in  the  bow.  The  sub- 
marine was  riding  easy  just  clear  of  the  Anti- 
Kaiser's  sides. 

We  finally  recognized  the  outlines  of  a  vessel 
advancing,  and  apparently  a  big  one,  too.  It  was 
not  moving  fast  but  was  surely  approaching,  bear- 
ing directly  down  on  us.  Our  port  and  starboard 
lights  were  surely  visible  to  them  and  they  could 
certainly  see  them  in  time  to  clear  us. 

"What  can  we  do  but  fire  on  her?  She  will  be 
on  top  of  us  in  another  minute  I"  shouted  Howard, 
fully  alive  to  the  danger. 

I  called  to  the  marine  to  let  a  shot  go  directly 
at  her,  which  he  did  instantly,  then  another  and 
another,  but  the  little  one-pound  shots  apparently 
made  as  much  impression  on  her  iron  bow  as 
water  on  a  duck's  back,  and  she  did  not  veer  a 
fraction  of  a  point,  coming^  dead  on  us.  When 
she  got  closer  I  could  make  out  she  was  undoubt- 
edly a  big  merchantman,  perhaps  eight  or  ten 
thousand  tons.  How  I  prayed  for  Scotty  to  be 
here  and  give  her  a  dose  of  a  five-pound  gun.  But 


FIGHTING  BYNG  299 

seconds  counted  now,  our  danger  was  extreme, 
and  we  were  wholly  helpless.  On  she  came,  mov- 
ing perhaps  at  the  rate  of  twelve  knots.  She 
could  not  possibly  keep  such  a  course  by  mistake 
for  the  one-pound  gun  made  enough  noise  in  the 
silent  midnight  Gulf  to  awaken  the  dead. 

Howard  was  not  excited.  He  made  a  step 
toward  the  marine  waiting  for  another  order  to 
fire,  then  stopped  and  seemed  to  measure  our 
chances.  He  appeared  to  be  taking  inventory  of 
the  damage  the  great  blunt  bow  would  do  during 
the  few  seconds  before  she  struck  the  Anti-Kaiser 
wrecking  boat  a  glancing  blow  forward  that 
brought  her  over  on  her  beam's  end,  snapping  the 
hawsers  that  fastened  us  to  the  submarine,  as 
through  cotton  strings  or  cobwebs. 

Howard  and  the  marine  grasped  the  one- 
pounder  to  keep  from  sliding  down  the  now  ver- 
tical decks  of  the  Anti-Kaiser  into  the  sea,  I  being 
just  as  fortunate  in  getting  my  arm  through  a 
hawser  eye. 

Her    dull    black    iron    sides    seemed    an    age 


300  FIGHTING  BTNG 

getting  out  of  the  way,  leaving  the  Anti-Kaiser 
trembling  and  rocking  like  a  chip  on  the  white 
caps. 

Both  Howard  and  I  rushed  to  the  side  to  ascer- 
tain if  possible  what  was  undoubtedly  a  deliberate 
attempt  to  run  us  down,  murder  us  and  steal  the 
prize  we  had  labored  so  long  and  arduously  to 
raise  from  the  floor  of  the  sea. 

Where  was  Scotty  with  the  Sprite  and  five- 
pound  gun?  Had  he  turned  traitor  and  played 
into  their  hands? 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WE  did  not  have  long  to  wait  to  learn  where 
Scotty  was.  The  murderous,  devil  ship  had  just 
disappeared  into  the  night  when  in  the  silent  mid- 
night waters  of  the  Gulf  an  ear-splitting  report 
of  a  cannon  came  like  a  shout  from  heaven.  I 
was  sure  now  Scotty  would  follow  all  night  to  get 
them,  sink  them  or  get  sunk.  Howard  and  I 
turned  our  attention  to  actual  damages.  The  lan- 
terns by  which  we  worked  had  all  slid  into  the 
sea.  By  the  wonderful  phosphorescent  effect  of 
agitated  Gulf  waters  we  could  see  that  the  subma- 
rine still  rolled  violently  and  was  taking  water  in 
the  after-hold  out  of  which  we  had  been  pumping 
for  six  hours.  Of  course,  with  hawsers  parted,  it 
began  to  drift  away  from  us  in  the  tide,  acceler- 
ated by  the  tail  wake  of  the  big  ship. 

301 


302  FIGHTING  BYNG 

We  heard  two  more  shots  from  the  five-pounder 
and  my  confidence  in  Scotty  and  the  marine  aboard 
the  Sprite  increased.  I  knew  the  little  Scot  was 
working  to  do  his  bit. 

Both  Howard  and  I  turned  together  to  the  little 
Titian  tied  with  liberal  swinging  room  to  the  stern 
of  the  Anti-Kaiser.  We  pulled  her  alongside  and 
Howard  jumped  in.  * '  She  is  half  full  of  water ! '  ' 
he  shouted.  "She  had  keeled  over  on  her  beam 
as  the  colliding  ship  shoved  her  out  of  the  way ! ' ' 

The  loosened  submarine  had  drifted  out  of 
sight.  Howard  finally  found  a  lantern  and  lit  it. 
We  went  to  the  lifeboat  of  the  Anti-Kaiser,  so 
securely  lashed  it  would  take  minutes  to  free  it, 
and  the  minutes  now  were  more  than  hours  at  an- 
other time,  and  Howard  knew  it. 

As  though  pre-arranged  he  plunged  into  the  sea 
in  the  direction  of  the  drifting  prize,  his  life,  his 
hope,  his  patriotic  endeavor,  his  duty  to  little  Jim, 
all  in  the  balance. 

I  felt  safer  now  as  I  knew  he  would  get  to  her 
quicker  that  way  even  if  she  went  to  the  bottom. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  303 

Fifteen  years  of  sponging  had  made  water  almost 
a  natural  element  to  him. 

The  Anti-Kaiser's  three  anchors  were  let  out 
during  the  storm  and  had  evidently  held.  After 
a  rapid  examination  no  damage  was  evidenced; 
she  did  not  leak. 

With  the  lantern  I  rushed  into  the  hold.  I  must 
have  kicked  the  old  darkey  Don  pretty  hard;  he 
had  disgustingly  slept  through  it  all.  I  then  relit 
the  red  and  green  signal  light  the  collision  had 
put  out.  I  stopped  to  listen,  but  the  only  sound 
was  the  faint  lapping  of  the  water  against  the 
sides  of  the  Anti-Kaiser. 

Straining  my  eyes  to  get  some  sign  of  the  prize, 
I  was  haunted  by  the  thought  that  Howard  might 
not  find  it  and  perish.  Don  came  up;  I  ordered 
him  to  help  the  marine  man  the  lifeboat,  and 
rushed  to  the  boat's  charts  to  make  sure  which 
wray  the  tidal  currents  ran  there  and  estimate  in 
what  direction  the  submarine  would  drift. 

As  a  naked  steel  thrust,  came  the  knowledge 
that  it  flowed  about  three  miles  per  hour  through 


304  FIGHTING  BYNG 

a  channel  between  coral  islands  less  than  three 
miles  away,  not  navigable  because  of  coral  forma- 
tion close  to  the  surface,  the  tide  that  had  been 
ebbing  three  hours  making  it  still  more  danger- 
ous. 

I  stood  on  the  stern  of  the  Anti-Kaiser  and  hal- 
loed, again  and  again,  loud  enough,  it  seemed,  to 
reach  the  infernal  regions.  But  no  response  came 
forth  from  the  silent  Gulf  waters.  Howard  was 
lost  or  had  drifted  out  of  my  voice 's  range. 

I  ordered  the  marine  and  Don  to  bail  out  the 
little  Titian  and  see  if  he  could  start  its  motor. 
I  then  jumped  into  the  lowered  lifeboat,  deter- 
mined to  find  Howard.  Scotty,  I  was  sure,  would 
take  care  of  himself  and  the  hell-bound  ship  that 
would  run  us  down  with  murderous,  destructive 
intent. 

I  would  row,  then  get  up  and  shout  for  Howard 
to  answer,  more  rowing  and  yelling  again  at  the 
top  of  my  voice,  without  receiving  a  sound  in 
response. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  305 

I  came  back  to  the  Anti-Kaiser  hoping  Don  and 
the  marine  had  the  Titian  bailed  out  and  the  motor 
started ;  with  that  I  could  make  more  speed. 

They  had  the  water  out,  but,  being  flooded  so 
long,  the  motor  would  not  start.  Again  I  went 
out  to  row,  this  time  in  a  larger  circle,  shouting 
at  regular  intervals.  I  recalled  that  I  had  done 
the  same  thing  for  Howard  twenty  years  ago  on 
Alligator  Island  in  Georgia.  Obsessed  by  the  anx- 
iety and  strain  the  past  day 's  hellish  influence  sug- 
gested and  haunted  me  with  the  thought  that  this 
time  he  was  lost,  the  prize  lost,  and  little  Jim 
fatherless!  I  tell  you  it  was  torture  any  man 
would  escape  if  he  could.  I  recalled  waiting  for 
the  break  of  day  as  I  did  on  Alligator  Island,  and 
prayed  that  things  would  turn  out  the  way  they 
did  that  time.  In  this  instance  it  was  different, 
however.  The  prize  submarine  may  have  been 
injured  and  sunk  so  far  away  that  Howard  was 
unable  to  swim  back. 

Before  dawn,  after  long  and  hard  work,  I  cleared 
the  Titian's  motor  of  water  and  had  her  running. 


306  FIGHTING  BYNG 

I  knew  then  I  could  swiftly  search  in  daylight,  and 
when  the  first  rays  were  showing  in  the  horizon 
Don  made  coffee. 

As  I  ate  and  drank  I  walked  about  scanning  the 
water  as  far  as  the  slowly  advancing  light  would 
allow,  with  no  results.  At  first  a  light  fog  ob- 
scured the  coral  islands,  the  direction  in  which  I 
knew  he  must  drift.  The  marine  and  I  cursed  it. 
But  I  stopped  suddenly  as  I  heard  old  Don  in  the 
cabin  praying  earnestly  for  the  safety  of  his  mas- 
ter. The  sincere  supplication  moved  and  com- 
forted. 

He  was  right.  It  was  no  time  to  curse.  He  put 
plenty  of  food  and  water  in  the  Titian  before  I 
started  and  looked  to  see  if  the  rifle  in  the  holster 
before  me  was  all  right,  little  Jim's  rifle  that  al- 
ways went  with  the  Titian;  then  said  as  I  was 
leaving  that  he  would  continue  to  pray  for  little 
Jim's  father  and  me  until  we  both  returned, 
and,  say  what  you  will,  it  gave  me  a  quiet  strength. 

"I  know  you  gwine  to  find  him,"  he  called  to 
me  as  the  little  propeller  began  to  lash  the  water 


FIGHTING  BYNG  307 

viciously  as  if  it,  too,  knew  what  was  at  stake  and 
gathered  express  speed  like  a  greyhound  with  its 
quarry  in  sight. 

It  wasn't  yet  broad  daylight  and  patches  of 
fog  hung  in  places,  which  I  recall  annoyed  me  to 
irritation,  as  the  Titian  shot  out  in  the  direction  I 
thought  the  prize  would  drift.  I  had  gone  perhaps 
three  miles  before  I  saw  a  dark  spot  that  I  first 
thought  was  a  denser  fog,  but  as  I  drew  near  it 
I  could  discern  the  high  stern  of  a  merchant  ves- 
sel. Yes,  it  was  a  vessel,  and  the  Titian  seemed  to 
know  and  tightened  its  grip  on  the  water  until  I 
came  close  enough  to  read  on  its  stern,  Monserat 
of  Vera  Cruz.  I  could  recall  an  old  English-built 
vessel  by  that  name  that  sailed  under  the  Mexican 
flag  between  Mexico  and  California  ports,  and 
bore  a  doubtful  reputation  with  the  custom-house 
officials  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  As  this  flashed 
through  my  mind  I  changed  my  course  to  avoid 
coming  too  close.  I  saw  she  was  at  anchor,  the 
same  dirty  black  sides  that  seemed  to  rush  by  in 
their  evident  intent  to  run  us  down.  She  needed 


308  FIGHTING  BYNG 

paint  and  was  so  old  that  she  had  been  built  of 
iron,  before  steel  began  to  be  used  in  ship  con- 
struction. 

Scotty  wanted  to  explain  why  he  didn't  see  her 
coming  and  head  her  off  before  she  struck,  and 
how  he  forced  her  to  anchor  by  two  shots  into  her 
upper  works.  As  soon  as  he  stopped  I  came  along- 
side with  him  giving  a  broadside  view  of  the 
Monserat. 

"Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  submarine? 
This  fellow  cut  us  apart  and  it  has  been  drifting." 

"No — been  sailing  close  around  this  fellow  all 
night,  so  that  he  didn't  play  any  more  tricks  until 
you  go  aboard, ' '  he  replied,  looking  very  haggard 
and  hungry  from  his  all-night  patrol,  eating  the 
food  I  gave  him  ravenously. 

"You  did  right,  Scotty.  Hold  him  at  anchor 
until  I  return.  IVe  got  to  locate  the  submarine 
first  for  she  may  be  still  floating  into  some  dan- 
gerous position. " 

"I  think  this  fellow  has  a  gun  aft,  and  may  try 
something  after  it  gets  full  daylight,"  said 


FIGHTING  BYNG  309 

Scotty,  viewing  her  with  his  glasses,  and  then,  like 
any  good  sailor,  swept  the  sea  on  each  side  and 
beyond. 

"Circle  him  at  a  safe  distance  and  if  he  tries 
any  tricks  give  him  the  iron — sink  the  ship  rather 
than  allow  him  to  get  away,"  I  ordered,  quickly 
preparing  to  resume  my  search  in  an  improved 
light,  much  hastened  by  Scotty 's  work. 

Scotty  did  not  reply,  but  continued  with  his 
binoculars  to  the  left  of  the  Monserat. 

"What  is  it,  Scotty?" 

"The  light  is  still  bad,  but  unless  the  fog  fools 
me  I  can  make  out  something  to  the  left  of  the 
Mexican.  No — no ;  it's  nothing "  he  said,  dis- 
appointedly and  slow.  "Yes,  it  is — surely  it  is 
something;  look  yourself!"  he  said  excitedly, 
handing  me  the  glasses. 

Eagerly  I  raised  them  but  at  first  could  see 
nothing  until  I  changed  the  adjustment  on  the 
lens,  but  it  was  so  dim  and  nebulous  I  was  afraid 
Scotty 's  imagination  was  working.  However,  I 
decided  to  wait  a  few  minutes  for  the  light  to  im- 


310  FIGHTING  EYNG 

prove  and  then  take  in  the  surroundings.  The 
Monserat  had  been  halted  and  was  at  anchor  about 
a  half  a  mile  from  one  of  the  barren  coral  groups 
of  the  Tortugas.  If  what  Scotty  saw  was  the 
prize  it  had  not  drifted  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  the  charts.  But  if  it  was  by  chance  the  sub- 
marine and  if  the  Mexican's  intent  on  us  last  night 
was  deliberate  he  might  attempt  some  more  tricks 
as  soon  as  he  saw  it.  I  scanned  the  Mexican  Mon- 
serat. Yes,  there  was  surely  a  gun  of  some  size 
in  the  stern,  covered  with  a  dirty  sail  cloth. 

When  I  looked  again  in  the  direction  Scotty 
thought  he  saw  something  I  was  convinced  it  was 
not  imagination,  and  decided  to  go  to  it  at  once. 

"Scotty,  I  believe  I  can  make  out  something 
over  there,  too;  but  it  may  be  only  a  coral  reef 
sticking  out;  you  know  these  waters  are  full  of 
them.  Take  a  position  well  off  the  Monserat 's 
bow  and  keep  moving  pretty  fast  back  and  forth 
so  that  he  cannot  reach  you  with  his  stern  gun 
without  weighing  anchor.  Give  him  the  five- 
pound  steel  anywhere  if  he  attempts  to  move,  but 


FIGHTING  BYNG  311 

keep  out  of  his  way,  for  that  gun  has  you  out- 
classed, and  if  he  makes  a  hit  you'll  have  break- 
fast with  Davy  Jones." 

Scotty  set  his  teeth  hard  and  began  to  obey 
my  instructions.  "He's  welcome  to  all  he  gets 
from  me.  All  I  wanted  was  an  order  from 
you." 

"Be  careful  though,  Scotty.  So  far  we  have 
no  charge  against  her.  All  that  happened  last 
night  could  have  been  accidental,  and  that's  the 
devil  of  it,"  I  called  to  him  as  I  gave  the  Titian 
her  wings  and  started  for  the  dim  object  three  or 
four  miles  beyond. 

Yes,  it  was  Howard;  he  had  managed,  after 
tremendous  effort,  to  let  out  the  anchor  of  the 
prize  and  stood  waiting  for  me,  his  long  hair  and 
beard  reminding  me  of  a  sea-lion  as  he  stood  in 
the  tower  in  water  up  to  his  knees.  His  eyes  were 
bloodshot  and  he  looked  all  the  strain  of  his  night 's 
effort  and  days  of  sleepless  endurance. 

"I  knew  you  would  come  at  daylight,"  he  said 
quietly  as  I  came  alongside. 


312  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"I  tried  to  find  you  during  the  night,  but  was 

_* 
not  successful." 

"I  thought  so.  It  took  me  so  long  to  swim  to 
her  that  after  getting  aboard  I  guess  I  was  un- 
conscious for  a  time,  but  upon  waking  I  finally 
got  her  hook  out.  I  don't  believe  they  have  used 
the  anchor  since  it  was  built,"  he  said,  after  a 
long  pull  at  the  water  I  gave  him. 

As  he  ate  almost  savagely  of  the  food,  I  told 
him  what  happened  after  he  left,  and  if  he  was 
safe  I  must  go  and  examine  the  Mexican  and  let 
him  go  if  nothing  irregular  were  found,  as  we  had 
no  right  to  hold  him  longer. 

"Wood,  that  was  not  an  accident." 

"No,  but  knowing  and  proving  is  different.  The 
flag  is  neutral  on  the  surface  and  this  farce  must 
be  suffered  for  a  time." 

"Well,  you  know  best,  but  that  fellow  had  mur- 
der in  his  heart,  whoever  he  is.  My  anchor  holds 
fine  and  plenty  of  water,  perfectly  safe  unless  it 
storms.  We  can  pump  her  out  here  as  well  as  any- 
where," he  added,  somewhat  softened,  but  yet 


FIGHTING  BTNG  313 

terribly  determined.    What  manner  of  man  was 

this  who  could  stand  such  punishment  and  ex- 

• 
posure? 

I  could  not  hold  the  Mexican,  though  I  was  sure 
she  carried  Kamund  and  party.  I  never  told 
Howard  this  until  long  after.  They  had  picked 
her  up  at  Vera  Cruz  for  the  deliberate  purpose  of 
running  down  and  destroying  us.  The  principal 
thing  I  wanted  then  was  for  her  to  proceed  to  the 
Nicaraguan  port  for  which  she  was  cleared  and 
had  Scotty  trail  her  far  past  Key  West  to  see 
that  no  one  was  set  ashore  here. 

We  pumped  out  the  prize  successfully.  The 
Anti-Kaiser  was  able  to  tow  her  and  I  succeeded 
in  getting  a  sub  chaser  to  convoy  it  to  a  North- 
ern port.  I  did  not  see  Howard  again  until  the 
case  was  about  to  be  called  for  trial  some  months 
later 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

HISTORY  has  been  made  so  rapidly  that  those  in 
the  midst  of  it  will  not  realize  its  speed  for  many 
years. 

Unmasking  the  ambitious  operations  of  Bulow 
and  Company  in  the  South  led  to  swift  investiga- 
tion of  other  suspicious  concerns.  Every  one  had 
a  well-worn  path  to  the  Transatlantic  Banking 
Company.  A  monster  serpent  had  boldly  come 
out  of  the  sea  and  coiled  itself  up  in  Wall  Street, 
emitting  foul,  stuporous  fumes  as  well  as  distilled 
poison  through  financial  channels.  The  fatally 
faulty  psychology  of  the  Hun  and  cohorts  misled 
him  as  usual. 

One  morning  the  country  was  electrified  by  the 
announcement   that    the    Transatlantic   Banking 

314 


FIGHTING  BYNG  315 

Company  was  taken  over  as  alien  enemy  prop- 
erty, and  a  little  swift  work  on  their  books  revealed 
hundreds  of  millions  more  property,  mostly  manu- 
facturing. The  serpent  lacked  brains  as  usual. 

Frequent  announcements  were  made  that  sales 
of  such  property  would  take  place  either  by  auc- 
tion or  private  arrangement,  every  time  scotching 
a  snake.  The  department  wanted  to  convict 
Ramund,  who  was  a  director  in  the  Transatlantic 
Banking  Company,  and  it  was  my  work  to  pro- 
cure every  bit  of  evidence  bearing  on  his  case, 
especially  as  it  established  that  in  Mexico  Ger- 
mans traded  in  everything  from  twelve-year-old 
virgins  to  highest  executives. 

I  was  taking  some  memoranda  in  the  office  of 
the  custodian  of  alien  enemy  property  and  paying 
little  attention  to  the  auctioneer,  who  was  selling 
widely  scattered  properties  to  a  big  crowd  of 
buyers  outside  the  rail. 

However,  I  was  instantly  at  attention  when  I 
heard  the  name  Byng  &  Potter,  Incorporated.  The 
whole  history  of  how  the  bank  had  deliberately 


816  FIGHTING  BYNG 

robbed  Howard  Byng  of  his  life's  work,  offered 
the  apple  to  his  wife  and  wrecked  his  home,  in- 
stantly flashed  through  my  mind. 

The  first  bid  was  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  but  in  less  than  ten  seconds  the  auc- 
tioneer was  calling  five  hundred  thousand.  There 
was  no  more  excitement  than  if  he  was  auctioning 
a  Bowery  suit  of  clothes  or  fake  jewelry. 

A  clerk  who  was  working  near  me,  well  back 
from  the  rail,  said  it  was  a  little  connecting  rail- 
road that  sent  it  up  so  high,  as  the  other  property 
was  about  nil  in  value.  I  kept  on  working  where  I 
sat  but  listened. 

"Why  is  a  jerkwater  railroad  exciting  the  bid- 
ders?" I  asked  the  clerk. 

"Well,  it's  leased  and  incorporated  now  into  a 
big  system. ' ' 

"TJ-m!"  I  could  understand  now  why  the  bid- 
ding had  gradually  crawled  up  to  nine  hundred 
thousand,  where  it  hung  again,  when  a  bid  of  nine 
hundred  and  twenty-five  was  made,  to  be  promptly 
raised  by  someone  to  nine-fifty.  There  was  some- 


FIGHTING  BYNG  317 

thing  in  the  tone  of  the  last  bidder  that  made  me 
rise  instantly  and  go  to  the  rail  that  separated  the 
buyers  from  the  office. 

I  was  not  mistaken.  It  was  Howard  Byng,  won- 
derful, powerful,  great  Howard,  now  of  New  York. 
He  did  not  notice  me  at  first.  A  man  again  among 
men,  the  clean-cut,  prosperous  Howard  Byng,  his 
masterly  aquiline  nose  and  acumen  coping  with 
bankers  where  he  belonged.  The  one  I  left  in  the 
AValdorf  fifteen  years  ago,  just  before  they  stole 
his  property  and  made  him  a  lowly  fisherman.  I 
knew,  though  outwardly  stoical,  it  was  a  glorious 
moment  for  him.  Nine-fifty  was  the  last  bid  and 
the  property  was  his.  As  he  came  out  of  a  corner 
near  the  clerk's  desk  he  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
his  triumph  and  deposited  with  the  cashier  a  cer- 
tified check  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand, 
balance  to  be  paid  when  conveyance  was  com- 
pleted. 

His  eyes  filled  with  delight  and  eagerness  when 
he  saw  me.  The  greeting  of  a  big  man  is  never 
noisy.  His  eyes  were  dancing  as  he  carefully 


318  FIGHTING  BYNG 

folded  his  receipt.  I  knew  how  he  felt  by  the  way 
he  continued  to  grip  my  arm  when  leaving,  there 
being  a  warmth  and  firm  magnetism  in  it  that 
delighted  me — of  a  real  man  who  does  things, 
who  removes  obstacles  with  a  punch  and  a 
bang. 

"Meeting  you  finishes  it.  I  am  satisfied.  Let's 
go  to  the  Waldorf.  I  want  to  sit  in  the  same  seat 
where  I  talked  with  you  the  last  time.  I  am  going 
to  take  up  life  from  that  point,  where  I  started 
astray  by  not  following  your  advice,"  he  said,  just 
as  though  our  meeting  had  been  arranged  as  part 
of  that  day's  duties. 

"Have  you  seen  little  Jim?"  he  now  ques- 
tioned, after  we  were  seated  in  the  same  quiet 
corner. 

"No;  not  since  she  left  the  Keys,  but  I  know 
she  is  all  right." 

"Yes;  she  is  safe  and  happy  and  learning  fast. 
A  teacher  has  taken  a  fancy  to  her  and  treats  her 
like  a  daughter.  No  doubt,  that  is  your  work  and 
I  certainly  appreciate  it.  I  had  to  go  back  to  the 


FIGHTING  BYNG  319 

Keys  to  dispose  of  everything  there,  my  store  and 
tannery  interests.  She  writes  me  the  most  de- 
lightful letters,  one  every  day;  in  every  one  she 
mentions  this  teacher.  She  is  a  great  girl,  Wood, ' ' 
he  added  delightedly. 

"You  may  well  be  proud  of  her,  Ho  ward. " 

"Have  I  got  time  to  go  down  to  Georgia  with 
Don  to  get  things  started  again  where  they  left 
off  fifteen  years  ago,  before  this  case  goes  to 
trial  1" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  Anyhow,  I  can  reach  you 
easily." 

"That's  one  of  the  things  that  remains  to  be 
done;  that  man  must  be  punished,"  he  said  sav- 
agely. "Fifteen  years  have  changed  me  a  great 
deal  but  I  do  not  hate  him  one  bit  less.  Killing 
is  not  enough  for  such  vermin,"  he  said  with 
that  deadly  gleam  in  his  eyes  and  the  grinding  of 
that  wonderful  jaw.  His  clean-shaven  skin  had  a 
pinkish  freshness  and  forceful  virility.  "And, 
Wood,  another  difficulty,  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
presents  itself — a  great  difficulty.  I  am  a  coward, 


320  FIGHTING  BYNG 

Wood,  a  downright,  craven  coward. "  His  fierce- 
ness softened  and  finally  gave  way  to  grave  con- 
cern. 

"What  is  it!" 

"When  I  really  came  to  myself — after  five  or 
six  years  on  the  Keys  I  was  yet  very  bitter;  I 
had  envenomed  acid  bitterness  against — well, 
about  everybody.  Little  Jim  was  old  enough  to 
ask  questions.  She  asked  me  about  her  mother. 
I  told  her  she  was  dead — dead  to  me  as  a  fact. 
But  lately,  likely  suggested  by  her  association 
with  this  teacher  and  other  girls,  she  has  asked 
about  her  mother  again  and  wants  to  see  where 
she  is  buried.  How  am  I  going  to  meet  it?  And, 
moreover,  how  am  I  going  to  tell  her  that  my  name 
is  not  Canbyf  And  how  am  I  going  to  tell  her — 
what  led  to  it?  Her  mind  is  like  a  steel  trap. 
Silence  only  emphasizes.  What  shall  I  do  I  I  love 
the  child  so  much  I  have  a  cowardly  fear  that  she 
will  not  understand." 

"Howard,  I  realize  your  feelings  and  have  fore- 
seen your  difficulties.  I  believe  I  can  help  you— 


FIGHTING  BYNG  321 

possibly  at  the  expense  of  your  friendship — for  a 
time " 

"That's  impossible,  Wood;  you  are  one  person 
to  whom  I  must  listen." 

"All  right,  then  brace  yourself,  for  I  am  going 
to  give  it  to  you  in  allopathic  doses.  Howard, 
can  you  recall,  when  we  last  sat  in  this  corner 
fifteen  years  ago,  why  I  counseled  caution,  to 
'play  close*  and  let  good  enough  alone ?" 

"Yes,  just  as  though  it  was  yesterday.  You 
said  I  was  due  for  a  crisis,  and  I  was  weak 
enough  to  be  convinced  otherwise." 

"Well — it  so  happened  that  I  hit  the  nail  on 
the  head.  You  have  been  through  fifteen  years  of 
fire  and  tribulations.  I  believe  you  have  not  only 
been  fashioned  into  a  splendid,  valuable  tool,  but 
have  been  pretty  well  tempered,  ground  and 
whetted  to  a  fine  cutting  edge.  But  it  may  be 
possible  a  little  more  fire  is  necessary  to  draw 
the  temper  to  a  point  where  it  won't  nick  or 
crumble  when  it  strikes  something  very  hard.  Do 
you  understand  me,  Howard!" 


322  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"Yes,  perfectly.  I  have  made  and  tempered 
steel-cutting  tools  and  know  exactly  what  you 
mean,"  he  replied  eagerly. 

"Well,  yon  were  about  thirty  then;  you  are 
forty-five  now,  and  it  may  be  you  are  in  for  an- 
other little  time,  through  which  your  natural  and 
acquired  bigness  will  carry  you  safely,  but  not 
without  serious  effort." 

"I  understand;  go  ahead,"  he  urged,  moving 
uneasily. 

"Howard,  no  really  big,  useful  man  can  afford 
to  harbor  even  thoughts  of  revenge  or  bear  malice 
or  hatred  toward  anyone.  But  you  have  a  right, 
in  fact  it  is  a  duty,  to  hate  the  hellish  or  the  evil  in 
anyone. ' ' 

"I  see  the  distinction — go  ahead."  His  eyelids 
twitched  nervously. 

"Now  I'm  going  to  put  to  the  test  your  South- 
ern blood — the  vital  Georgia  Cracker  blood  that 
has  carried  you  through  and  brought  you  out  on 
top.  You  have  just  told  me  you  still  hate,  fiercely 
hate,  this  man  Kamund?" 


FIGHTING  BYNG  323 

"Yes — yes — he  destroyed  iny  home,  he  ruined 
me—he " 

"Howard,"  I  interrupted,  "I  know  he  violated 
every  law  of  the  decalog — but  can't  you  think  he 
has  been  pretty  well  punished?  Everything  now 
indicates  that  he  will  forfeit  his  hundred  thou- 
sand bail  and  never  return.  You  and  I  know  a 
suitable,  fearful  punishment  has  been  inflicted, 
and  I  glory  with  you,  but  what  I  am  getting  at  is 
that  you  ought  to  hate  his  acts  and  everything  he 
represents,  but  not  the  man  himself.  To  hate  any 
man  is  distinctly  corroding  and  exceedingly  harm- 
ful." 

Howard  did  not  reply  but  struggled  with  the 
fire  within. 

"And  now  that  leads  to  a  more  important  sub- 
ject :  Have  you  ever  tried — have  you  ever  thought 
of  trying  to  find  little  Jim's  mother?"  I  asked 
slowly,  looking  straight  in  his  eyes,  in  fierce  com- 
bat with  the  man's  colossal  will. 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  slowly  it  came  to 
him  that  he  must  reply. 


324  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"I — I — no!"  he  hesitated,  I  believe  for  the  mo- 
ment burning  with  resentment  at  the  question. 
"I  have  closed  the  book  in  which  it  is  written  and 
locked  it  forever.  I  can  see  no  possible  good  in 
even  recalling  it,"  he  added,  softening  slightly. 

"Howard,  that's  the  point.  This  is  going  to  be 
the  crucial  test  between  you  and  me,  even  after 
all  these  years.  Now,  let  us  think  for  a  moment 
to  see  if  you  have  not  yet  duties  to  perform — to 
yourself,  duties  to  her,  and,  more,  to  little  Jim. 
Howard,  as  far  as  money  goes,  I  know  you  are 
well  fixed — again.  I  saw  you  pay  nearly  a  mil- 
lion dollars  for  your  old  property,  and  get  it  for 
about  half-price,  with  no  more  effort  than  for  me 
to  buy  a  half  dozen  collars,  and  that  brings " 

"But,  Wood,"  he  interrupted,  and  without  re- 
sentment, "I  don't  believe  you  fully  understand. 
I  saw — waking  and  sane — I  saw  her  unresisting  in 
that  man's  arms  receiving  his  lascivious  caresses 
and  kisses.  Wood,  at  that  moment  I  would  give 
all  I  paid  for  that  property  this  morning,  if  I 
could  recall  the  slightest  gesture  of  resentment, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  325 

and  for  a  sign  or  groan  of  agony  at  the  ravishing 
insult  and  indignity.  I  would  give  every  cent  I 
have  or  shall  ever  earn  in  my  life.  But  my  ears, 
whetted  to  the  keenness  of  the  hearing  of  fifty  men 
combined,  detected  not  the  slightest  protest,"  he 
ended,  his  powerful  body  trembling  and  shocked  at 
even  recalling  the  distressing  incident  of  fifteen 
years  ago. 

"But — dismissing  that  phase  of  it,  can  you 
still  escape  responsibility?  When  you  sat  here 
with  me  the  last  time,  you  were  intensely  happy  in 
the  possession  of  her  love  and  tender  care,  and 
had  been  for  some  time.  Then  she  bore  your  child, 
she  is  the  mother  of  little  Jim.  As  a  common  debt 
of  gratitude  for  this  are  you  not  bound  now  to 
find  her  and  see  that  she  is  made  comfortable  and 
not  in  wrant  I  You  owe,  actually  owe  her  in  money 
value  this  much,  as  the  mother  of  little  Jim." 

I  halted  in  order  that  my  words  might  sink  deep 
before  speaking  again. 

"And,  Howard,  something  more  important,  you 
give  me  credit  for  starting  you  out  of  the  pine 


326  FIGHTING  BYNG 

woods.  Maybe  I  did,  but  during  the  time  you 
loved  and  was  happy  with  her,  she  did  more  to 
develop  the  man  in  you  than  I  could  do  in  a 
thousand  years.  To  overlook  this  is  ungrateful; 
plain,  simple  ingratitude." 

It  was  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  tears  in  Howard 
Byng's  eyes,  big  tears.  His  mouth  twitched  and 
he  swallowed  hard. 

"Wood,"  he  finally  began,  struggling  manfully 
to  control  himself,  "it  may  be  you  are  right.  I 
think  you  are.  I  should  provide  for  her,  but  I 
don't  know  how  to  go  about  it.  And — and  there 
have  been  times  lately  when  I  have  thought  I  was 
too  harsh  and  uncompromising,  but  facts  are 
pungent,  bristling  things  no  matter  how  much  you 
might  wish  otherwise."  This  came  in  such  man- 
ner from  the  bigness  of  the  man  that  I  grasped  his 
hand  eagerly. 

"God  bless  you,  Howard!  I  am  busy,  every 
man  with  red  blood  in  our  nation  is  busy,  but  I 
will  undertake  to  learn  something  about  her.  You 
go  back  to  Georgia.  Our  nation  needs  every 


FIGHTING  BYNG  327 

ounce  of  turpentine  and  rosin  you  can  make  and 
needs  them  badly,  as  well  as  the  paper  and  cotton. 
Go  down  there  and  make  things  hum  for  Uncle 
Sam  and  I  will  see  what  can  be  done.  Also  I  will 
see  little  Jim.  I  believe  I  can  overcome  your  dif- 
ficulties there. " 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

As  I  suggested,  Howard  took  Don,  the  old 
darkey,  and  hurried  off  to  Georgia  to  put  his  re- 
acquired  property  in  working  shape,  utilizing  the 
waste  stumps,  and  cleaning  the  best  cotton  land 
in  the  world.  His  parting  injunction  was  that  he 
would  return  on  an  hour's  notice,  and  for  me  to 
see  little  Jim  as  soon  as  I  could  find  time.  He 
would  spend  Christmas  with  her,  as  he  had  from 
infancy  taught  her  the  significance  of  it  and  had 
never  failed  to  celebrate.  He  wanted  her  to  be 
very  happy  that  day. 

I  met  Charlie  Haines.  He  was  still  chasing 
moonshiners.  I  asked  him  if  he  had  heard  any- 
thing lately  of  Mrs.  Byng.  I  knew  he  would  eas- 
ily recall  her. 

328 


FIGHTING  BYNG  329 

"Only  once,  Wood,'*  he  replied.  "I  believe  she 
was  on  her  way  to  Europe — to  study.  But  for  the 
life  of  me  I  can't  recall  just  what— music,  I  think. 
That  was — let  me  see — yes,  it  was  a  year  or  two 
before  the  war  began  and  she  may  have  been  stuck 
there.  No,  she  had  not  married,  and  I  wonder 
why.  I  believe  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman 
I  ever  saw.  She  was  simply  wonderful." 

In  a  day  or  two  I  started  out  to  see  little  Jim. 
I  had  to  coach  her  for  the  witness  stand  and  make 
good  my  promise  to  Howard. 

I  had  been  losing  sleep  and  decided  to  go  in 
the  chair  car  and  have  a  couple  hours'  rest  while 
riding,  and  for  the  first  time  I  got  a  full  view  of 
myself  in  the  big  mirror  in  the  end  of  the 
car.  I  was  quite  unable  to  recognize  myself, 
and  wondered  how  the  change  would  affect  little 
Jim. 

You  know  it  seems  a  belief  among  persons  who 
should  have  better  sense  that  men  in  our  work  can 
make  a  lightning  change  by  the  use  of  false  beards, 
wigs  and  the  like,  when,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  such 


330  FIGHTING  BYNG 

flimsy  attempts  to  camouflage  exist  only  in  the 
poor  minds  of  story  writers  and  can  be  practiced 
only  on  the  stage  and  in  the  movies;  in  life  such 
a  thing  would  be  an  advertisement.  Even  a  wig 
is  so  rare  that  it  attracts  instant  attention,  and 
is  utterly  useless  as  a  disguise. 

When  it  seems  necessary  to  make  a  change  in 
our  appearance  it  takes  from  two  to  three  months, 
and  as  I  had  been  undergoing  such  a  change  pre- 
paratory for  something  special  it  was  a  wonder 
Howard  recognized  me.  It  was  a  distinct  shock 
when  I  saw  myself  in  the  mirror  at  the  end  of  the 
car,  from  head  to  shoes. 

My  red  wire-grass  had  been  clipped  to  the  skin 
and  a  broad-brimmed,  low-crowned  hat  of  a 
Quaker  or  Mennonite  planted  there.  My  beard 
had  grown  like  weeds  until  I  had  a  three-inch 
brush  on  my  face,  with  the  exception  of  my  shaven 
upper  lip.  A  limp,  white  shirt,  celluloid  collar  and 
black  tie,  and  a  black  Prince  Albert  covered  my 
bones  well  below  my  shins,  where  baggy  black 


FIGHTING  BYNG  331 

trousers  joined  rough  brogans  laced  with  leather 
strings.  Anyone  could  recognize  in  me  a  mounte- 
bank medicine  vender,  a  lying  horse  trader  or 
horse  thief — there  is  not  much  difference  between 
the  two — or  leader  of  some  crazy  religious  cult,  a 
Greenwich  Village  Bolsheviki  or  anyone  who  at 
first  sight  could  be  depended  on  to  be  tricky  and 
irrational  on  serious  things. 

I  was  afraid  little  Jim  would  not  recognize  me. 
She  had  developed  wonderfully  fast,  and  with  a 
sense  of  humor  was  able  to  recall  her  first  ex- 
perience with  me  as  a  salesman  of  ship  chandlery. 
When  they  sent  her  to  me  in  the  private  office  of 
the  registrar  it  was  hard  to  tell  who  was  the  more 
surprised.  She  hesitated  at  the  door  with  a  de- 
lightful nai'vette,  thinking  some  mistake  had  been 
made  when  she  first  saw  me. 

"Come  in,  little  Jim,  I  want  to  see  you." 
Her  face  changed  to  mystified  interest,  as  she 
closed  the  door  and  came  toward  me,  trying  her 
best  to  recognize  a  familiar  voice  who  knew  her 
as  little  Jim. 


332  FIGHTING  BYNG 

"It  cannot  be — yes,  it  is — oh,  it  is  you,  Mr. 
Wood.  I  never  would  have  known  you  without 
hearing  your  voice, ' '  she  said,  giving  me  her  hand 
cordially,  "but  you  always  come  in  such  a  funny 
way.  Why  didn't  you  bring  Daddy  with  you? 
He  has  been  promising  to  come  for  ever  so  long, 
but  I  am  almost  as  glad  to  see  you. ' ' 

"How  do  you  like  it  here,  little  Jim!"  I  asked, 
after  she  was  seated  near  me. 

"I  never  thought  there  was  such  a  fine  place. 
The  girls  here  are  so  nice  and  all  the  teachers  are 
very  kind  to  me — I  am  making  splendid  progress, 
but  tell  me  about  Daddy — where  is  he  and  how 
did  everything  turn  out  f ' ' 

I  took  great  pains  to  detail  all  that  happened 
after  she  left  and  the  success  of  her  father.  By 
this  means  I  prepared  her  to  testify  in  a  natural 
way  and  told  her  he  had  bought  a  big  plant  in 
Georgia  where  he  was  now,  but  that  he  would 
return  before  Christmas.  She  asked  a  great  many 
questions  in  open-eyed  wonder,  her  early  training 
in  practical  business  enabling  her  to  understand 


FIGHTING  BYNG  333 

easily,  but  when  through  she  lapsed  into  manifest 
disappointment. 

' '  Then  I  will  never  go  back  to  the  Keys  to  live  ? 
And  I  won't  have  my  boat  Titian,  and  won't 
Daddy  have  the  Sprite?  And  Don — what  will  be- 
come of  old  Don?" 

"You  will  either  live  in  New  York  or  down  in 
Georgia,  but  he  has  kept  your  Titian,  and  made 
the  Sprite  over  for  his  own  use.  Don  went  South 
with  him." 

"But,  then,  I  will  never  see  my  flowers,  or 
Nereid,  or  hear  the  music  among  the  beautiful 
plants  and  forests  at  the  bottom  of  the  Gulf? 
Oh,  I  would  like  to  hear  the  sweet  music  of  the  sea 
again.  Do  you  know  that  sometimes  our  music 
instructress  plays  for  me  so  delightfully  I  can 
almost  go  to  sleep  as  I  wanted  to  down  in  the 
water?  She  is  wonderful  and  has  been  so  kind  to 
me ;  I  wonder  why  I  never  had  a  mother  ?  I  have 
asked  Daddy  about  my  mother,  and  asked  him  to 
take  me  to  where  she  is  buried.  All  the  other  girls 
here  have  mothers  they  love  so  much,  and  if  I  saw 


334  FIGHTING  BYNG 

where  she  was  buried  I  would  love  her,  too,  as 
they  do  their  living  mothers.  You  have  known 
Daddy  a  long  time.  Did  you  know  my  mother, 
too?"  she  asked  sorrowfully. 

* '  Yes,  I  knew  your  mother  long  before  you  were 
born." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Wood,  tell  me — what  was  she  like.  I 
have  always  wanted  to  know.  Daddy  never  liked 
to  talk  about  it.  One  of  my  teachers,  the  one  I 
room  with,  who  is  so  good  to  me  when  I  get  lone- 
some, has  asked  me.  Tell  me,  Mr.  Wood,"  she 
asked,  leaning  toward  me  impulsively,  her  eyes 
shining  like  bright  stars. 

"Little  Jim,"  I  began,  rising  and  looking  out 
on  the  beautiful  winter  scene,  "when  you  were 
about  a  year  old  your  father  lived  here  in  New 
York  and  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  to  get 
away  from  it  all  he  took  you  and  Don  in  the 
schooner  Canby  and  went  out  to  sea.  After  many 
days  you  were  wrecked  on  the  Keys  and  went  by 
the  name  of  Canby  ever  since." 

1 '  Then  my  real  name  is  not  Canby  f   What  is  it  f 


FIGHTING  BYNG  335 

Was  that  when  my  mother  died?"  she  asked,  all 
at  once,  coming  to  my  side  at  the  window  and 
timidly  taking  hold  of  my  hand.  "And  you  have 
not  told  me  what  she  was  like,"  she  added,  though 
apparently  assured  there  was  nothing  dishonor- 
able. 

"No — little  Jim — I  think  it  is  right  for  you  to 
know  that  your  mother  did  not  die  then,  and  it  is 
not  certain  that  she  is  dead.  She  was  a  very 
beautiful  woman. ' ' 

"But  Daddy  told  me  she  was  dead,"  looking 
up  confidingly,  her  eyes  large  with  inquiry. 

"He  meant  she  was  dead  to  him,  and  did 
not  feel  able  to  explain.  Can  you  understand 
it?" 

"Daddy  is  my  only  wonderful  Daddy  and  would 
not  tell  me  anything  if  it  was  not  best,  but  I  am 
older  now  and  can  know  more.  Tell  me,  Mr. 
Wood." 

"Little  Jim,  I  have  told  you  enough  now.  You 
will  have  to  come  down  to  New  York  pretty  soon 
to  this  trial  an  I  explained;  then  I  may  tell  you 


336  FIGHTING   BYNG 

more/'  I  said,  laying  my  hand  on  her  head  con- 
vincingly. 

"Will  Daddy  be  there,  too?" 

"Yes;  he  will  be  there,  too,  and  also  remember 
to  talk  to  no  one  about  this  matter;  the  school 
authorities  understand.  It  is  nearly  time  for  me 
to  go  and  I  must  see  the  registrar  and  bid  her 
good-bye,"  I  said,  leading  her  out  of  the  office  into 
a  sort  of  a  big  hall  or  rotunda.  She  ran  at  once  to 
someone  across  the  big  room  who  had  apparently 
been  hovering  about  waiting  for  her  and  who 
scanned  me  mercilessly.  I  knew  instantly  it  was 
the  teacher  to  whom  she  referred  so  often,  and 
the  sight  of  her  made  my  heart  jump. 

"Yes,"  said  the  registrar  when  I  found  him, 
"I  will  send  her  down  any  time  you  want  her 
with  this  teacher  who,  under  my  instructions,  has 
shared  her  room  ever  since  she  came.  They  have 
grown  to  be  great  friends;  she  is  perfectly  safe 
with  her." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  case  of  "The  United  States  vs.  Ramund, 
et  cti.,"  crawled  up  slowly  on  the  trial  calendar 
until  the  work  of  getting  the  jury  began — three 
days  before  Christmas.  I  wired  Howard  when  to 
be  there,  and  made  arrangements  at  the  Waldorf 
Hotel  for  him,  also  little  Jim  and  her  escort,  and 
sent  for  them  as  soon  as  I  thought  the  jury  would 
be  completed. 

The  two  suites  I  engaged  at  the  hotel  were  en- 
tered from  a  wing  off  the  main  hall  on  that  floor. 
A  big  front  one  for  little  Jim  and  her  escort,  a 
smaller  one  across  the  hall  I  occupied  until  Howard 
came.  A  maid  I  brought  in  saw  to  it  that  our 
witness  was  not  molested. 

The  jockeying  of  the  defense  for  time  dis- 
337 


388  FIGHTING  BYNG 

gusted  the  court  and  everyone  else,  though  it 
suited  me  because  our  star  witness,  Howard,  was 
delayed.  I  knew  little  Jim  had  arrived,  but  did 
not  actually  see  her  for  reasons  that  will  appear. 

Howard  did  not  arrive  until  the  afternoon  be- 
fore Christmas,  with  the  defense  still  obstructing 
the  progress  of  the  trial.  Pushed  hard  late  in  the 
afternoon  they  admitted  they  could  not  produce  a 
single  one  of  the  defendants.  Their  bonds  were 
immediately  declared  forfeited,  and  court  ad- 
journed for  the  holidays.  I  had  to  attend  to  some 
detail.  I  told  Howard  to  go  to  the  hotel  and  get 
cleaned  up.  I  would  meet  him  there  soon.  He 
misunderstood  me  and  before  I  knew  it  was  as- 
signed rooms  in  another  part  of  the  hotel.  Then 
I  went  for  the  first  time  to  see  little  Jim,  osten- 
sibly to  tell  her  that  she  would  not  have  to  appear 
as  a  witness. 

She  came  to  the  door  at  my  ring  and  was  very 
much  delighted  to  see  me,  leading  me  to  her  teacher 
and  escort  in  the  front  room  of  the  suite  and 
introducing  me  with  polite  formality. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  839 

Her  teacher  started  visibly  at  her  clear  pro- 
nunciation of  the  name  and  asked  me  to  be  seated, 
her  eyes  trying  to  penetrate  my  incongruous  ap- 
pearance. 

"I — I  once  knew  a  Mr.  Wood,  but  it  is  a  long 
time  since  I  have  seen  him.  It — it  can't  be  that 
you — that  you  know  him — I  should  like  very  much 
to  see  him, ' '  she  said,  glancing  with  a  sort  of  affec- 
tionate apprehension  at  little  Jim,  who  stood  near 
me. 

"Perhaps  fifteen  years  of  wear  and  tear  has 
been  more  severe  on  me  than  it  has  on  yourself. 
It  has  laid  a  kindly  hand  on  you,  but  if  you  can 
imagine  me  as  divested  of  this  ancient  coat  and 
transfer  these  whiskers  to  the  bare  spot  on  my 
head  it  may  help  you  some,"  I  said,  trying  to  get 
into  lighter  vein. 

"Then  you  are "  she  hesitated,  almost  de- 
vouring me  with  her  astonished  eyes,  "can  it  be 
possible  you  are  the  Mr.  Wood  I  once  knew,  the 
friend 

"Yes;  quite  the  same,"  I  interrupted,  in  order 


340  FIGHTING  BYNG 

to  allow  her  plenty  of  time  in  which  to  control 
herself. 

"Have  you — have  you  any  news?  I  should  like 
to  see  you  alone,  Mr.  Wood,"  she  requested,  look- 
ing at  little  Jim  in  a  frightened  way. 

"It  isn't  necessary.  This  little  girl  and  I  are 
very  good  friends.  She  can  hear  everything.  In 
fact,  I  want  her  to,"  I  replied,  drawing  little  Jim 
down  on  a  hassock  beside  me,  "I  have  important 
news  for  you, ' '  I  added,  looking  full  at  the  wonder- 
ful, sweet,  earnest  and  time-refined  Norma  Byng. 

"Tell  me — tell  me  quickly.  I  don't  care  if  the 
whole  world  hears — is  he  alive  and — is  he  well?" 
she  asked  excitedly,  her  bosom  rising  spasmodic- 
ally with  the  deep  breathing  of  intense  excitement. 

"Yes,  I  will  tell  you,  but  you  must  be  calm,  and 
control  yourself.  You  may  be  put  to  a  terrible 
test  with  the  possibility  of  failure.  And  you,  little 
girl,  must  pay  close  attention  and  not  miss  a  single 
word,"  said  I,  laying  my  hand  on  little  Jim's 
shoulder,  who  was  wide-eyed  in  wonder  at  the 
turn  of  things. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  341 

"Your  husband,  Howard,  has  returned  after 
having  completely  rehabilitated  his  magnificent 
self  in  all  ways.  He  has  even  regained  control  of 
his  property,  his  plant  in  Georgia,  and  completely 
recovered  from  a  state  of  practical  insanity  that 
held  him  for  several  years — but  he  has  not  recov- 
ered wholly  from  the  shock  given  him  by  this  man 
Ramund " 

"And  he  still  believes  that  I — oh,  what  shall  I 
do !  There  has  never  been  a  moment  that  I  have 
not  loved  him  and  would  now  willingly  give  my 
life — but  my  child,  my  little  Norma,  what  of  her! 
I  have  lived  in  constant  hope  she  would  be  re- 
stored to  me." 

"About  two  years  ago  in  the  course  of  my  em- 
ployment I  learned  where  you  were.  Afterward 
I  found  Howard  and  little  Jim.  She  had  to  go  to 
school,  so  I  conceived  and  was  able  to  carry  out  a 
quiet  or  rather  a  deceptive  plan  to  bring  all  three 
of  you  together.  You  have  had  your  child  in  your 
care  for  more  than  four  months.  Little  Jim,  this 
is  your  mother,  of  whom  you  wanted  me  to  tell 


342  FIGHTING  BYNG 

you,"  I  said,  raising  her  to  her  feet  for  Norma 
Byng  to  embrace  passionately  in  a  flood  of  tears. 

"I  knew  it — I  felt  it!  From  the  moment  I  saw 
her  first  I  felt  a  bond;  we  have  loved  each  other 
deeply  without  knowing  what  we  were  to  each 
other!"  she  exclaimed,  holding  little  Jim  so  that 
she  could  see  her  face,  and  who  by  this  time  was 
also  in  tears  of  joy. 

"I  was  afraid  you  would  trace  the  great  re- 
semblance to  yourself  when  her  tan  came  off  and 
her  hair  grew  out, ' '  I  said,  trying  to  be  calm  my- 
self. 

"Then  this  is  my  mother!"  screamed  the  de- 
lighted little  Jim.  ' '  Oh,  I  have  wished  a  hundred 
times  I  could  call  you  mother  and  now  I  have  my 
wish!"  Then  she  began  to  dance  up  and  down  as 
though  on  springs,  finally  throwing  her  arms 
about  her  mother's  neck  and  kissing  her  repeat- 
edly between  happy  little  sobs  of  joy  uncon- 
fined. 

Holding  tightly  to  her  darling  child  there  came 
into  the  face  of  Norma  Byng  an  intense  sadness, 


FIGHTING  BYNG  343 

her  lips  quivered.  Intuitively,  I  knew  what  she 
was  going  to  ask. 

" Where  is  Howard!  Is  he  unrelenting — is  he 
not  yet  convinced?" 

"No,  he  is  not.  His  fierce  Georgia  nature,  the 
hot  blood  of  the  South,  stands  in  the  way.  I  have 
tried  and  I  am  going  to  try  again,  so  you  must  be 
prepared — even  for  failure.  I  am  not  at  all  sure 
of  success.  I  am  going  out  to  try  and  find  him 
now.  While  I  am  gone  you  might  tell  little  Jim 
the  whole  story.  She  is  a  big  little  girl — just  like 
her  truly  great  mother  and  father.  She  will  un- 
derstand and  it  may  help.  He  loves  little  Jim  as 
his  only  love, ' '  I  said,  starting  away  from  the  re- 
united mother  and  child.  It  was  time  for  them  to 
be  alone. 

" Shall  we  wait?"  asked  Norma  Byng,  weeping 
softly. 

"Yes,  wait  till  I  return." 

After  a  lot  of  telephoning  and  explaining  to 
clerks  and  bell  boys,  I  finally  succeeded  in  getting 
Howard 's  things  transferred  to  the  suite  intended 


344  FIGHTING  BYNG 

for  him.  He  was  looking  for  me  and  I  for  him 
with  the  result  that  it  was  late  when  we  got  to- 
gether. 

His  first  question  was  of  little  Jim.  I  had  to  be 
very  careful  when  telling  him  how  I  had  informed 
her  about  her  new  name.  But  he  was  much  pleased 
and  relieved  that  she  knew.  Then  he  began  to  talk 
about  business.  His  disappointment  at  the  turn 
things  had  taken  in  court  was  somewhat  assuaged 
by  the  information  that  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  cash  had  been  forfeited  to  the  United 
States  by  Eamund's  default  in  appearance. 

He  then  began  to  tell  me  of  the  great  progress 
he  had  made  on  his  property,  the  stump  pullers 
were  again  at  work  and  things  were  going  very 
well  at  the  plant  in  Georgia. 

"Did  you  hear  of  anyone  moonshining  in  the 
swamps  f ' ' 

"Well,  I  guess  they  are  making  a  little  liquor 
over  there  somewhere,  but  the  old  gang,  the  one 
you  and  I  knew  about,  is  not  there,"  he  replied, 
smiling. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  345 

"You  didn't  have  time  to  go  up  to  Alligator 
Island  for  a  shot,  did  you?" 

"No — and  I  don't  believe  I  ever  will  go  there 
again, ' '  he  replied,  sobering  quickly,  his  face  even 
saddening.  "By  the  way,  did  you  learn  anything 
— of  her  ?  I  suppose  you  have  been  too  busy  f ' ' 

"Yes,  I  have  heard — I  have  some  very  import- 
ant news.  I  know  where  she  is.  She  is  now,  and 
always  has  been  employed,  and  she  is  a  more  cul- 
tured, more  wonderful  woman  than  ever,  How- 
ard. " 

"It's  a  terrible  thing,  Wood.  I  wish  that  snake 
Ramund  had  been  sent  up  for  life,  or  hung,  as  he 
should  be.  It  is  strange  how  life  continually  pre- 
sents great  difficulties  and  disappointments." 

"Howard,  your  case  is  not  as  bad  as  others. 
Your  wife  still  loves  you,  and  I  don't  believe  she 
has  ever  wavered  a  moment.  I  wish  you  would  see 
it  that  way." 

"But,  Wood,  I  may  be  able  to  forgive,  but  such 
a  wrong  I  could  not  forget.  It's  the  way  of  the 
South.  We  never  forget.  I  have  thought  this 


346  FIGHTING  EYNG 

terrible  matter  over  ten  thousand  times,  but  was 
unable  to  deceive  my  own  eyes — I  saw.  Sometimes 
I  wish  I  had  not  seen." 

Howard  sat  at  the  corner  of  the  table  and  rested 
his  powerful  jaw  in  his  palm  gloomily.  He  was- 
obstinate  and  so  was  I  and  thus  matters  stood 
when  I  began  to  pace  the  floor.  I  had  become  just 
as  determined  as  he.  Abruptly  I  stopped  and 
looked  him  in  the  eye. 

"Howard,"  said  I,  " there  is  no  need  of 
your  being  deceived.  Norma  Byng  was  then  and 
is  now  as  pure  as  driven  snow — pure  as  an  an- 
gel." 

"You  can  only  guess  at  that.  You  did  not 
see — as  I  did.  I  would  give  up  my  hope  of  a 
future  life  not  to  have  seen  what  I  did.  I  will 
admit  I  love  her  as  much  as  I  ever  did.  I  know  it 
now — I  wish  I  didn't,"  he  said  sadly.  "It  is  one 
thing  I  must  bear — one  of  the  burdens  of  life,"  he 
added,  depressed,  but  terribly  firm. 

"Howard,  my  whole  life  has  been  spent  in  learn- 
ing what  people  think  as  much  as  what  they  do. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  347 

And  you  have  had  plenty  of  evidence  that  I  suc- 
ceed. I  tell  you  Norma  Byng  is  innocent — guilty 
of  nothing  except  one  great  indiscreet  effort  to 
aid  you.  She  was  led  to  believe  she  could.  Time 
has  not  dimmed  her  ardent  love  for  you  one  iota. ' ' 

*  *  I  wish  I  were  sure  of  it,  but  I  could  never  be. 
I  am,  as  I  should  oe,  very  glad  I  have  little  Jim  to 
love,  for  a  man  must  have  someone  to  love  and 
work  for." 

"  Howard,  you  have  got  to  be  bigger  than  that. 
You  have  succeeded  a  second  time,  and  you  are 
now  more  re-established  materially;  besides,  you 
have  done  yourself  honor — you  have  been  the 
means  of  performing  for  this  country  a  service 
that  cannot  be  estimated " 

"No — Wood,  you  did  it.  It  was  all  you,  and  I 
offer  you  again  a  half  interest  in  the  business,  and 
this  time  you  have  got  to  take  it.  It's  yours.  I 
would  never  have  regained  it  without  your  help." 

"Howard,"  I  said,  grabbing  him  by  the  arms 
and  raising  him  to  his  feet  in  a  supreme  deter- 
mination to  break  his  will,  "from  the  first  time  I 


348  FIGHTING  BYNG 

saw  you  until  this  moment  you  have  had  plenty 
of  evidence  of  my  friendship.  I  have  never  ad- 
vised you  wrong.  I  am  not  doing  so  now.  As  you 
stand  there,  resisting  all  reason,  I  spurn  your 
offer  and  fling  it  from  me  as  I  would  plunge  tem- 
pered steel  into  the  enemy.  Our  friendship  is  now 
being  weighed  for  real  values. ' '  My  voice  shook, 
for  I  was  terribly  in  earnest  as  I  continued : 

"I  tell  you  that  you  are  wrong!  As  she  has  no 
one  else  to  defend  her,  I  shall.  Hear  me  when  I 
say  that  Norma  Byng  never  had  an  impure  or  un- 
chaste thought  in  her  life.  The  Hun's  proposal 
stunned  her;  shocked  her  beyond  the  power  to 
move  or  speak.  You  ought  to  understand  such  a 
possibility.  I  have  heard  her  story.  Dissimula- 
tion in  her  is  unthinkable.  And  what  I  say  I  know 
is  not  guesswork,  but  the  result  of  a  careful,  pains- 
taking search  for  your  happiness,  hers,  and  little 
Jim's.  Howard,  it  is  Christmas  eve.  Do  you  hear 
those  bells  ringing  out  to  the  world — peace  and 
good  will  to  men?  Look  at  these  papers,"  said  I, 
taking  out  the  original  warrants  for  one  Canby. 


FIGHTING  BYNG  349 

"Take  a  look  at  them  and  judge  for  yourself 
whether  or  not  I  was  won  to  your  cause  by  little 
Jim  first — her  little  Jim  as  much  as  yours — be- 
cause she  looked  like,  and  reminded  me  of  Norma 
Byng.  Suppose  I  had  given  these  papers  to  the 
marshall  to  serve.  Can't  you  see  why — it  was 
little  Jim,  whom  she  brought  into  the  world.  Drop 
your  distrust.  Let  your  love  light  the  way  and 
come  with  me,"  I  said  impulsively,  taking  him  by 
the  hand  and  leading  him  across  the  hall. 

Little  Jim  came  to  the  door  again,  as  soon  as 
she  heard  my  voice. 

"Oh,  Daddy,  how  late  you  are.  We  have  been 
waiting  for  you  so  long.  I  know  everything  now. 
Come  in  here,  Daddy,  we  have  been  waiting  for 
you — my  mother  and  I,"  she  cried,  leading  her 
father  by  the  hand  just  as  I  had  done.  I  fol- 
lowed them  into  the  front  room.  Little  Jim  led 
him  straight  to  Norma,  took  her  mother's  hand 
and  placed  it  in  his.  My  emotions  were  hard  to 
control.  I  knew  that  the  child  had  done  more  in 
a  moment  than  I  could  ever  have  done.  What  had 


350  FIGHTING  BYNG 

been  torn  asunder  was  now  reunited  in  holy  bond. 

Little  Jim  told  me  afterward  she  had  seen  a 
wonderful  transformation  and  was  thrilled  by 
heavenly  voices,  just  as  she  had  been  when  she 
visited  Nereid,  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  It  was 
then  that  Norma  and  Howard  Byng  became  truly 
great,  and  sacred  to  little  Jim  and  me.  We  tip- 
toed out  and  w^ent  over  to  Howard's  room  across 
the  hall.  Anyone  who  in  sheer  goulishness  would 
have  desecrated  this  holy  reunion  by  listening  to 
their  tender  words  and  witness  their  caresses 
must  indeed  stand  in  need  of  better  manners,  to 
say  the  least. 

It  seemed  but  a  short  time  until  they  came  to 
where  we  were  and  together  they  placed  their 
hands  in  mine,  with  joyous  little  Jim  standing  be- 
tween us.  They  were  about  to  speak  of  their  ob- 
ligation to  me  when  there  floated  up  from  the 
great  music  room  below  a  glorious  chorus,  clear 

as  a  bell,  and  of  infinite  sweetness "Peace  on 

Earth  Good  Will  to  Men." 

Next  morning  I  found  Howard  and  little  Jim  in 


FIGHTING  BYNG  351 

the  office  looking  over  timetables.  They  both  came 
toward  me  smiling,  Howard  a  changed  man — a 
wonderful  transformation  had  taken  place.  He 
took  my  hand,  offered  in  congratulation,  and 
squeezed  it  hard.  Said  he,  "Wood,  I  am  going 
away;  no  more  business  for  a  long  time.  I  am 
going  to  celebrate  a  real  wedding. ' ' 

Then,  in  a  voice  coming  from  his  heart,  soft  with 
emotion,  he  added,  "The  remainder  of  my  life 
shall  be  spent  righting  a  tremendous  wrong.  I 
have  just  commenced  to  live." 


THE   END 


STRATFORD  &  GREEN 

BOOKSELLERS 

642-644  SO.  MAIM  ST. 

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